Love is a riddle
by IThinkIJustGleedMyself
Summary: A/U - It's complete chance that she goes with Blaine that day, but she leaves feeling something that she's never felt before.
1. I

**Hi! So, with 'Just Pretending' drawing so close to the end, I've started another multific. And I wanted to share the first chapter with you and hear your thoughts :)**

**This fic is dedicated to my amazing friend Lucy (MonstersAreReal) She also beta'd this chapter, so thank you!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_New York City, 1948._

The Anderson-Hummel dinners are a weekly thing – every Friday at seven pm, _sharp_. They dress smartly, not a piece out of place, and all gather around the table. That night, Rachel slips into her brand new dress, a dashing yellow number her Papa had bought her, and joins the rest of the guests at the table.

By rest of the guests, she only means Burt Hummel and his son, Kurt, who've been family friends for as long as she can remember. And so, Kurt'd become like a brother to her over the years, a confidant in who she could share anything. Of course, she has her older brother, Blaine, but most of the time he doesn't seem so interested in her school girl daydreams of Jesse St James. Not that he's a bad brother – he's just… a brother. Everything that anyone would expect of one. Protective, caring, yet he can grow tiresome of her company. He is nineteen after all – _almost_ twenty - and she's only seventeen. He has more important things to worry about other than how perfectly coifed Jesse's hair looks that day, or that's what Rachel tells herself when Blaine seems a little… _uninterested_ during her monologues. But maybe that's just a brother thing.

They take their seats, her usual one by Kurt. Rachel smiles in his direction before throwing one toward Blaine across the table.

It's the same as usual. Their fathers talk business; she hovers between their boring conversation to that of Kurt and Blaine, though often enough doesn't know what they're talking about either. Sometimes they talk business too, since they often help their respective fathers in their busy work. And things must have been busy lately, because she's seen them going into Blaine's room a lot more than usual to discuss this business.

As for her, these are matters which aren't really important. Her Papa says – mostly with an exasperated tone to his voice – that she lives with her head in the clouds. Rachel doesn't exactly see there's anything wrong with that, but her Papa seems to think there is, so she tries to keep her ideas and thoughts to herself. Not that it works. Sometimes they just burst out of her, and she's saying them before she can stop herself. That earns a disapproving glower, one which she'd rather prevent.

Dinner progresses much the same as it always does, and she ends up staring at her glass of water, swirling the drink around idly from her boredom. She jumps as she feels something connect with her foot, sitting up straighter in the chair. It feels like… somebody else's foot, beginning to rub up and down her leg. Instantly, she pulls her foot back, eyebrows knitting together. From across the table, Blaine's eyes widen slightly at her confused expression.

"Er – sorry, Rachel! I meant to – it was an accident." A pink blush grows on his cheeks, eyes looking anywhere but hers. Beside her, Kurt looks equally as embarrassed, hiding it behind a large gulp of his own drink.

Still, her brother is stuttering about for something to say, so much that their fathers have noticed, regarding the boy with raised eyebrows.

"It's fine," she smiles brightly, knowing that it must have been an accident. Her legs were probably just in the way.

It takes a few moments for his blush to fade, and he glances Kurt's way before moving his gaze down. All returns to normal quickly, her boredom easily resumed. She knows not to interrupt her Papa ("Business isn't for young ladies, Rachel!") and Blaine seems to still be embarrassed, so she steers clear of him too.

She's thankful when dinner ends, getting in a quick goodbye to the Hummel's and thinking about what she's going to do for the rest of the night. Papa makes the usual route to his office, where he'll most likely isolate himself for the evening, when he sees Blaine move toward the door, and frowns.

"Blaine, where are you going?"

Her brother stops, shoulders tense, and eyes wide. "Out, Father." Adding, "for a walk."

"May I come?" she butts in, a little too eagerly, "I feel rather bloated after my meal, and a walk would do me good." She offers Blaine a bright smile, instantly dropping it as he doesn't look as happy as her to be accompanied on his walk.

"Actually, I – "

"I think that's a wonderful idea." Papa smiles. He rarely smiles. Usually such an act is contained for when something amazing happened at the business, but it's nice to see it make an appearance toward the two of them. She smiles back, nodding eagerly.

Blaine looks less than pleased. "But Father, I wanted t – "

"You could go visit the Evans," he suggest, completely ignoring Blaine's obvious disappointed, "you haven't seen them for a while." He clamps his large hand down on Blaine's shoulder, and she notices the unhappy look on her brother's face, though doesn't think about it for long as her Papa beams her way, "why don't you get your coat Rachel?"

She nods, practically skipping to retrieve her long, red coat, one of her favourites, and it's appropriate for the chilly weather. When she gets back, she smiles at Blaine, "shall we go?"

He clearly tries to hold in a sigh, eyeing their Father reluctantly. "We'll be back soon," he mumbles, opening the door for her to go out first. With a smile, she passes him, stepping out in the nippy New York air, letting the wind embrace her in an instant, along with the busy traffic noises, then hum of city life. She loves it and wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

She almost misses Blaine hurrying past her, down the path to the gate, which creaks slowly upon being opened, and then begins walking, in the _wrong_ direction.

"Blaine," she calls, "where're you going? The Evans live that way." She points emphatically in the other direction, her face scrunched up in confusion.

"I know."

He continues to walk, or more rush, forward.

She moves after him, dainty little strides barely able to catch up, but she does eventually, and settles a 'tell me where you're going _now'_ look on him, arms folding across her chest. In response, he raises his eyebrows cockily as if to say, 'none of your business', and she huffs loudly, resisting the urge to stomp her feet like a petulant five year old. Blaine smirks.

"Blaine," she whines, "please tell me where you're going. If you haven't noticed, I'm kind of coming too."

"It's your own fault," he mumbles under his breath, but with her exceptional hearing she manages to pick it up.

"Hey!" she pouts, "I thought that you were going for a walk. Maybe around the park, or to the Evans. I wasn't expecting you to start diverting somewhere else…" She stops herself, beginning to wonder, "and why didn't you tell Papa? Are you hiding something from him?" She gasps, as though the thought is ludicrous, and dramatically spins around, "I'm going to tell him right no – _oof_!" His arm slips around hers, tugging her – admittedly a _little_ harshly – back the way that he's going, a stern expression.

"Rachel, you can't tell him!"

Her interest piques, eyes growing wide with curiosity. "Oh," her 'nonchalant' shrug is way over the top, and nowhere near as casual as she'd hoped. Still, the show must go on. "And what exactly can't I tell him? That his own son is lying to him, _sneaking off_?" She sighs, "and dragging me along, too?!"

With a roll of the eyes, and the hint of a smirk, he says, "you wanted to come."

"I thought we were going somewhere else," she replies primly, nose in the air.

"And if you really didn't want to come with me, you would have just gone home," he finishes, smiling proudly, "face it Rachel, you just can't _not_ know where I'm going. You're nosy like that." He shrugs, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It is, just not to her. Which is precisely why she gasps, insulted.

With a frown, she insists, "I am not nosy." She then smiles brightly, "I am merely _curious_."

Blaine chuckles, "keep telling yourself that." Though she makes an indignant huff, Rachel makes no effort to move away from Blaine – in fact, she clings to him tighter when she notices that they're headed to a part of town that she's never been to before. Eyeing her carefully, he asks, "you alright?"

"Yuh huh," she replies quickly, "I just want to know where we're going." She pouts again, trying to soften Blaine's defence with her large, puppy dog eyes. He falters, only slightly, and she feels her shoulders slump with defeat. Used to getting pretty much anything that she wants – she's admittedly spoiled, and she likes it that way – having Blaine deny her this simple information is frustrating. He's her _brother_; he's supposed to trust her, isn't she? And yet she's here, almost _begging_ – well, not exactly begging (Rachel Anderson does not beg, thank you very much). Still, she just wants to know. He's acting as if he's joined some street gang, and her knowing will put her in mortal danger…

For a second, she allows her imagination to take control, and then instantly shakes her mind. Blaine is not in a street gang. She'd know if that was true. But why won't he tell her? She'll understand – she's a _very_ sympathetic being, and she grew up with Blaine; she knows all there is to know about him.

He smiles, expression bemused, "you're really annoyed about not knowing?"

"Yes!" she groans, forehead creasing together and eyebrows sinking.

Blaine just laughs again. "I guess you'll find out when we get there." By now, it's clear that he's accepted the fact she'll be tagging along. When she wants something, she can be pretty difficult to persuade otherwise. His face suddenly drops, becoming much graver than what she's used to from the down to earth boy, "but you can't tell Father." She starts to protest, "I'm serious Rachel. He can't know. Not now, not ever."

"But _why_?"

"…he doesn't exactly… _approve_." He slows, eyes drawn to the ground, and he doesn't see her face soften with sadness.

She knows that Blaine and Papa don't exactly have the closest parent/child relationship, but she doesn't think that he'd ever discourage something that Blaine wants to do. Or at least, that's what she'd hope. Papa wouldn't want Blaine to be unhappy, would he? And it must be something that he's passionate about if he's willing to lie and sneak out in order to pursue it.

Rachel grips his arm tighter, inclining her head to his shoulder, "Blaine, if you really want to do it, I'm sure he'll understand -"

A sharp scoff cuts her short, and her frown deepens.

"Fine, I won't tell Papa. But I don't like lying to him." Her voice brightens, "can I know where we're going now?"

Blaine smiles, looking at her fondly for a moment before grinning, "patience is a virtue, you know?" She pulls a face, causing him to chuckle.

After a lot of walking, she begins to notice their surroundings changing. No longer are they among the beautiful and well-kept buildings of the Upper East side; instead surrounded by less aesthetically pleasing buildings, Rachel feeling slightly uneasy about the streets. She just has a bad feeling bubbling away in her stomach, but when she tells that to Blaine he just replies that she's being silly and proceeds to hurry them down the street.

"Well, here we are," he announces proudly, standing them in front of a grimy looking building, the brickwork faded, a large door intimidating the two of them. Above, there's a dilapidated sign, the remains of '_Schuester's_' barely recognizable.

"Blaine?" she throws a questioning look his way, "what is this place? It looks…" She's unable to finish the sentence. Why is he so excited about this?

His arm falls from hers, moving to open the door, with a low gruff and groan. It eventually eases open, a long, narrow staircase facing them. "I'm," he begins, smiling so brightly that the sun is put to shame, "I'm going to start boxing Rachel. Like, professionally."

"_What_?"

She knows that he uses it as a way to relieve his stress, or he did until Papa removed all the equipment from the house, saying that he'd gone too far with it. But that shouldn't warrant him sneaking off and pursuing it this way, does it? Papa must have had a good reason for stopping him from boxing…

"Look, I want to do this, and nothing that anyone says will stop me."

"But it's dangerous," she tries, holding onto him desperately, trying to pull him away from the door, "Blaine, you could get into trouble."

"I'm doing this," he announces, so sure and confident in his words.

She sighs, unsure of how to convince him otherwise. Noticing her expression, he frowns, wondering how he could get her to understand, "Rachel, how would you feel if Father stopped you from singing, and told you that you could never do it again?"

Her features scrunch into a painful expression, eyes sad. "Bla – "

"You have to see this from my perspective, okay? I'm not going to get hurt, and Father isn't going to find out about this." His eyes move over hers slowly, "you can't tell him." She frowns, internally conflicted. She knows how Papa would react, and she doesn't want Blaine to ever get in trouble that way, but nor is she happy with lying to her Papa. If he found out of his own accord, then he'd know that she were involved too, and surely the punishment would be twice as bad for the two of them.

But then she looks into Blaine's pleading eyes, and she knows how much he wants this.

"Okay," she replies softly, "I'm not happy about this though."

"Thank you! And I'll stay safe, I promise."

She doesn't believe him; she can't say no either. She's stuck in the middle, and eventually begins to follow Blaine into the building, the smell of sweat and something she can't quite place infiltrating her nostrils and causing her eyes to water.

They walk down the steep steps, Rachel clinging to him so tightly that he can barely feel the circulation in his arm. The lights are dim, causing them both to squint to keep their vision and not to go tumbling down the old, creepy stairs. She feels goosebumps rising on her arms, a strange nervousness possessing her whole body, and she inches in closer to him, if possible.

Reaching the bottom, there's light once again, provided by tall, thin floor to ceiling windows, and she takes a moment to glance around the large room, eyes drawn to the movement inside. There are so many men, all training, most _shirtless_, and she feels like she's flooded by the smell of masculinity. Her eyes don't know where to stop, darting from one toned chest to another. Face flushed, she looks to the grey concrete floor, feeling her pulse quickening, licking her tongue over her dry lips.

Beside her, Blaine lets out a shaky breath, "I should go find the owner..." His voice breaks slightly, and she looks up to stare into his suddenly doubtful eyes.

"Good luck," she offers, a smile sliding onto her lips. Their arms slowly detach, hers falling limply by her side as she stares at her brother.

He attempts to smile back. Hoping to ease some of the tension from him, she slowly wraps her arms around his form in a tight hug, pressing her face into his shoulder. Blaine reciprocates, seemingly finding comfort in the simple action, holding her close to him. It's a sweet and gentle moment between siblings, both at ease since entering the building.

Rachel pulls back, smiling tentatively at him. She's unable to stop herself from straightening up his shirt, both still clad in their dinner attire; it's a drastic change from the clothes that the other men in the room are wearing, or _not_ wearing. Watching as Blaine slowly moves away from her, she sighs, keeping her eyes trained away from the others around her, and awkwardly places herself on the edge of a free bench that runs the entire length of the wall.

The white paint on the wall is chipped, revealing scatters of a horrid green beneath it, and she wonders why Blaine wants to train _here_ of all places. It's not exactly the high class that they're accustomed to. The equipment looks old and worn, ripping at the edges; some torn and sewn together again, breathing in a new, albeit weak, life into them. She curls further into the protection of the wall as some people pass her, lifting her gaze for a moment to stare at their exposed skin.

This isn't something that she's used to – seeing men so… _naked_. Sometimes, on a hot day, the builders in the area would strip themselves of their shirts, but then she'd only ever see them from far away. Right now, they're right in her line of vision. Muscles, tanned skin, sweat from their hard training sessions rolling over the ripples in their tone chests. She has to check that she's not drooling. She isn't, _thankfully_, but her face feels on fire, barely able to keep her composure. If only her Papa knew where she was, what she was seeing. He'd surely throw a fit.

_He isn't here though_, she reminds herself with the hint of a smile, as she allows herself to stare for a couple more minutes.

A few return her glances, and she feels ridiculously out of place, with her bright red coat hugging her torso, yellow dress peeking from the bottom. She'd seen the other women as she'd walked through the streets here, and no doubt she sticks out like a sore thumb when compared to them. No wonder they're staring at her like she's a hallucination. After all, what would a girl like her be doing in a place like this?

Her eyes wonder to the space where Blaine had vanished to moments again, willing him to hurry back.

* * *

Blaine feels unbelievably small as he makes his way through the large, broad men. Well, he normally feels small, but right now it's like he's about four inches tall, all eyes on him. He knew that he should have changed first; his post dinner suit isn't exactly the best attire to be trying out for boxing in, but then his Father would have been suspicious, and he'd have been found out. No, that _can't_ happen – which is why he was so reluctant about his blabbermouth sister finding out, and now he'll have to remain extra vigilant to ensure that she doesn't let anything slip. She promised that she won't, but she can't keep anything to herself. For the only time in his life, he's kind of glad that she doesn't have many friends to potentially tell.

This needs to be kept a secret.

For as long as he can remember, their Father has hated his obsession with boxing, deeming it as something that the working class associate with, not high class people such as themselves. That'd done nothing to deter Blaine. In fact, it'd only fuelled it further, serving as a passion and something to irk his Father.

And, after months of debating, and Kurt giving the final shove and convincing him to join, he found himself here – unfortunately with Rachel tagging along – ready to start that passion. He's nervous, and a constant sickly feeling is following him, yet the excitement overshadows it all.

Summoning all his courage, he steps up to the front desk, ignoring all eyes on him. "Hello," he begins, at first his voice unusually quiet. He clears his throat, "I'd – I'd like to join."

The person stood behind, who had been crouched down beneath the desk, slowly rises – rising high above Blaine – and glowers at the young boy, eyes scrutinizing instantly. "Sorry, we don't hold tea parties here." Once again, he curses himself for being so dressed up, every curl brushed into perfect shape on his head. He takes the chance to look at his opponent, his own clothes worn, patchy and with small stains across them. The older man's own hair is curly too, but messy, greying and his shirt, which Blaine supposes used to be white, is a dull color now, after the many years of use. He looks altogether scruffy, something that his Father would turn his nose up at.

But Blaine doesn't. He puts on a large smile, forcing himself to laugh along with the joke at his expense. Others are laughing too; low, gruff sounds that make him feel slightly uneasy. "I'm serious," he says, voice hopeful. "I want to train here."

Lifeless eyes squint together slightly as they stare at him, like he's some lunatic, "is this some sort of joke, kid? Your friends put you up to this?"

"Absolutely not," he replies in an instant, bouncing up on his toes slightly. Maybe he sounds a little bit too eager, as they're laughing at him again, like it's _completely ridiculous_ that he'd want to join._ It isn't_, he thinks to himself, jaw locking.

The man laughs, a mean affair, each second making Blaine shrink further and further, frown forming. "Look…"

"Blaine."

"Look, Blaine, why don't you just run along home? I think you've wasted enough time here already."

A flash of anger surges through him. They're not taking him seriously. No, scratch that, they're making fun of him, and that's not acceptable. He's Blaine Anderson, and people _do not_ make fun of him. Before he knows it, his hand is slamming down onto the chipping wooden desk, painfully so, and the sound reverberates about the whole room.

Ear shattering laughter takes over then, and right now would be a great time to start his training, 'cause he really wants to hit something. But then the man just leans over the desk, face in his and says, "now that you've had your tantrum, the door's over there." He points to where Blaine'd just come from, and he really wishes that Kurt was there beside him, knowing that he would refuse to leave until they accepted him. He smiles as he considers that, trying to have the strength that Kurt has.

"I want to join," he says again, more forcefully.

"Kid – "

"_Give him a chance._"

Blaine instantly peers around for the source of the newcomer, his eyes eventually landing on an advancing figure. He's tall, at least a good six foot, with a broad torso, tone in all the right places. His hazel eyes are hard, making Blaine feel uncomfortable under the man's gaze. He passes Blaine, and their height difference becomes much more evident; Blaine is glad that this guy is on _his_ side right now.

"Finn," the owner begins, "look at him. He wouldn't last a week."

In response, Blaine's thick eyebrows knot together, and he puts all his effort into glaring at the man. The other – this Finn - peers down to him, a half smile tugging on his lips. It looks strange on him, his face otherwise unhappy. "You've got nothing to lose, Will. If he's bad, he's bad, and you can get rid of him (why does this sound so sinister and scary?) but, you never know," Finn shrugs, "he could have something."

"Yes, and I might be the king of England," Will replies, shaking his head slightly, making it clear that he wants to get this conversation over with, and quickly. "Besides," he adds, "there's no one to work with him. I'm too busy, and Puck's swamped this next month."

"I'll do it," Finn offers and, by the low murmur of reactions, this isn't something that Finn would normally do.

"You?" Will raises his eyebrows, before lowering his gaze to Blaine once more. The younger boy smiles, having inched slightly closer to Finn because, right now, this guy is the only friend – or close enough to one – that he's got here.

He nods, "I'll give him a couple of weeks. Then we'll set him up with a fight. If he loses, you can get rid of him."

Judging by the expression on Will's face, it's clear that he thinks that's how it'll all pan out. "Fine," he says, smiling a bit. He leans down again, face amused, "enjoy your two weeks while you can, kid." Blaine's face hardens at the implication, determined to prove him wrong. He's not the hopeless rich boy that they think he is, and he'll show them that.

He notices Finn beginning to stride away, rushing after him, which is hard with significantly smaller legs. "So, uh – thank you for that. You really didn't need to -"

"Save your ass?" he smirks, "it's fine, kid. I know what it's like for everyone to think that you're not good at something." At this, he looks sad for a moment, that darkness in his eyes again, before it's replaced by an empty look. He attempts a smile in Blaine's direction, "you better be good now. I don't wanna embarrass myself."

"Oh, I am! Or, I think I am," he nods enthusiastically. "Kurt says so anyway."

"…Kurt?"

A blush rolls onto his cheeks and he shakes his head, smiling gently, "just a friend. A business friend."

"So you work?" He seems surprised by this. "How old are you exactly?"

"Nineteen," he replies, "and yes, I work for my Father. I don't want to, but he just sort of… _expects_ me to."

Finn, who'd previously been fiddling with one of punch bags, slows, turning back to Blaine. "You and I may have a lot more in common than meets the eye."

He nods, not really sure what to think of that. Finn seems nice enough, having helped him in his hopeless attempts with Will, but other than that he knows nothing about the man. He watches him start to strap on some boots, lacing them tightly, and he sits himself on the bench next to him.

"So when do I start?" He questions, eyes wide with eagerness, making Finn chuckle. "I finish work at five every day, so I can be here any time after that."

After a moment's thought, he says, "be here by six thirty. I'll start you off easy."

"Bu –"

"I've been doing this for five years," Finn tells him, "I think I know what's best. Start off easy. Work yourself up. Trust me."

And, in a weird way, he does trust Finn.

The man stands, picking up some gloves, the nicest that Blaine has seen, and that's a surprise in a place like this. "I don't wanna be rude and stuff, but I've got a fight." He says, adding, "a rematch. Karofsky won't settle until he's won at least one." He finds himself nodding along, despite having no idea who this Karofsky is.

With the gloves secured onto his hands, he stretches his arms a little, cocking his head from side to side. His eyes move over to the clock on the far wall, time ticking slowly away. "You should stay for it," Finn suggests, "get a feel for boxing. And, you know, see if a little fight'll scare you off." A smirk crawls onto his lips.

He's testing him, he thinks. "It won't," Blaine replies surely.

Clamping his glove clad hand on Blaine's shoulder, he smiles. "Let's hope not. Come on."

But before he's dragged away into the other room, where booming noise is coming from, he suddenly remembers that Rachel is waiting for him, and he shouldn't leave her any longer. Finn stares back in confusion when he halts. "I – my sister is here. I need to get her."

"You're not chickening out on me?" he smiles wryly.

"I'm telling the truth," he says, "I'll only be a couple of minutes. I'll stay and watch." He nods his head along with his words, almost running back through the building to where he'd left her.

* * *

As time had passed, she'd grown more curious as to why everybody seemed to be flocking through the large, steel doors at the end of the room, an uncontrollable noise erupting from inside. But she stays firmly put in her seat, telling herself that Blaine will be back soon, and then she can go home, where she knows it's safe, and won't keep flinching as people move past her.

It's not that she's scared; she's just uncomfortable, having never been in a situation like this – or even _close_ to this.

Five more minutes.

And Blaine still isn't back.

She lets out a long, dramatic sigh, throwing her head back against the wall, then immediately moving away as she considers how dirty it looks.

The room is even noisier, if possible, and her eyebrows swoop down, the need to know what's going on more incessant than ever. Damn her curiosity. She's up on her feet without thinking, taking dainty steps forward and nearer the door. Biting her lip, she throws a look over her shoulder to see the room practically empty. Blaine won't mind if she's gone for a minute or two, will he? She shakes her head, doubting that he'll be back any time soon, and slipping through the doorway.

Her eyes widen at the sight of the large boxing ring, one competitor already standing inside, eyes burning with the need to succeed. He's _huge_, every part of him thick, and she feels herself step backwards against the wall despite him having no idea who she is. Around the ring is a rambunctious crowd, shouting, whooping at each other and the man centre stage.

Her feet feel glued to the spot, unable to let her return to the peaceful and quiet room next door, where she'd feel much safer. The crowd grows in cheers as somebody else enters the ring, her eyes immediately drawn up the tall body, arriving on his boyishly handsome face, then lowering down across his chiselled chest. She gapes, fighting hard to remove her gaze from him, and utterly failing. Time passes – she's not sure how much as she stares like she's in a trance – and the two begin to fight, hard punches being thrown about.

She winces every time the tall one is hit, wanting nothing more than to soothe each spot better. He takes it in his stride, moving about with an impressive agility for his size, and returning the favor to the other.

Without even realizing, she cheers as one particularly good hit is delivered by him, causing his opponent to stumble back, eyes unfocused for a second. Her voice, being the only female one in the crowd, is picked up on by him, or so it seems, as his face screws up in confusion, and he turns, looking directly to her.

Rachel feels her entire body freeze, eyes wide. She's unmoving, like a deer caught in the headlights, and it feels like an eternity as he just continues to _stare_ at her. She really must stick out, but he isn't looking at her clothes, or appearance; it feels like he's peering deep into her soul, seeing the things that others don't see.

And, from utter fear and shock, she manages to tear her eyes from his.

When she looks up again, his gaze hasn't lifted from her, allowing the other man to hit him, painfully so, in the cheek. She can practically _hear_ it, eyes closing as she doesn't want to see him hit the floor, but she hears the loud _thud_ as he does so.

What just happened?

* * *

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**As I said before, I love hearing what you guys think!**


	2. II

**Wow, thank you for such an amazing response to the first chapter! I am a very happy bunny right now :) It really encouraged me to write this second chapter much faster.**

**Thank you to Lucy for being awesome and beta'ing this fic! You're the best!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Rachel tosses and turns in bed, sighing dramatically when she can't fall into a peaceful sleep, no matter how many sheep she counts, or how tightly she closes her eyes and, in the end, she stops trying. The reason for her sudden and – _hopefully_ – temporary insomnia is the image of that devilishly handsome boxer burning into her skull. The feelings that had stirred in her upon their gazes meeting haven't subsided. In fact, they seem to be stronger, and she's so confused that she doubts she'll get any rest that night.

Just, the insanely strong tug to her chest had surprised her, as it's never happened before. What does it _mean_? He's a stranger and from only one look he made her feel things that Jesse has never come close to, leaving her at a loss of actions. It must have just been a coincidence that she felt so strongly toward the man while looking in his direction; the butterflies in her stomach could only have been nerves from being alone in such an unfamiliar place and, by chance, his eyes had locked onto hers as the onset of said nerves had become more prominent.

She groans. Even _she_ doesn't believe herself. School crushes are something that she's come upon a lot. First was Brody Westson, but that had slowly faded out when she realized that he was more interested in courting the daughter of Michael Anderson than actually courting _her_. Papa is very well known, and liked, and so many would do anything to be the son in law of such a powerful man.

After Brody had been Sam. It was a terrible one-sided affair, in which he didn't actually do anything wrong; in fact he'd been so nice to her that she'd fallen, as hard as any thirteen year old could really. Blaine just laughed when she announced that she was in love – she was _so_ sure of it – and then a week later the magic of her "first love" had worn off, and she got annoyed at him for staining her favourite dress.

And then there was (_is_) Jesse, and his perfect smile, his gorgeous face and a voice that makes her swoon. But then again she's pretty sure that he thinks she's a mute, or something along those lines, seeing as she can barely utter a word in his presence. It's completely baffling, she thinks, because she has never been one to be completely silenced by one person. But Jesse; he's just the dream guy that every girl wants to be with.

But now throw this new, nameless, stranger into the mix, and she just doesn't know what to do – should she go back with Blaine the following day? While she knows that it's wise to probably stay away from him, for fear of only further conflicting her feelings, she wants to see him once more, so badly. Rachel bites her lip, blushing in the darkness of her room as his chest appears in her mind once more.

He must train _very_ hard, she begins to wonder, tiny smile on her lips. It's almost as if she's afraid her Papa will know what she's thinking about and she'll be in trouble because of it. Naturally, he isn't fond of her being around boys, or men – basically any male who isn't related to her via bloodline, or a trusted family friend.

_But what he doesn't know won't hurt him._

She mentally slaps herself for thinking that. Rachel knows that it's wrong to defy her Papa and really, she hates to get into trouble. She's the biggest 'goody two shoes' there is, so to even _consider_ being dishonest should be completely out of the question! So why is she beginning to see it as an option?

It looks like Blaine's strike of deceit is rubbing off on her, and she's just about ready to hide something along with Blaine's new hobby, only she's not all that sure that allowing herself to indulge in this man is such a good idea. His hazel eyes enter her mind, the rest of his good looking face staring back at her.

Conscience and rational thoughts be damned, she's going tomorrow and she's going to enjoy it! Or more so, enjoy the tall, dark, stranger who somehow managed to take a hold on her heart with one look.

Her smile fully grows now, feeling as if it can brighten the dark room itself, and she is finally able to slip into a gentle sleep.

* * *

Time ticks on slowly, and she leans against the table with a loud sigh, making sure that her boredom is heard. How is it that the faster she urges time to move, the slower it becomes? It's like the universe just doesn't want her to be happy, and instead is laughing at her as she's forced to spend the afternoon tucked away in the large, empty house, feeling like her brain is about to rot from the mundane activities and –

"Ow!" She accidentally pokes herself with the needle.

"Rachel," she flinches at the sharp voice, "pay attention."

She pouts; staring up at her tutor with a look that shows her just how much she'd rather be anywhere else. In response, Miss Shelby raises a stern eyebrow, and the girl suddenly feels much younger than she is, lowering herself in her seat. "Sorry," she mumbles, inspecting the injured finger for a second before taking hold of the dress once again, eyeing the wonky stitches she'd made. "Oops," she says quietly. Sewing had never been her strong point.

The dress is pulled from her hands the disastrous lines of thread under high scrutiny. She's barely able to look Miss Shelby in the eye.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she waits for the lecture to come, but no such thing happens. In fact, she's met with complete and utter silence. Strange. Miss Shelby has always been strict, even more so before she started working for her Papa, but Rachel's aware that the woman seems to have a soft spot for her. She'd taught Quinn Fabray for a couple of years, and she distinctly remembers the blonde's constant complaints – more so than usual, and that's saying a lot – about a certain tutor. So, when her Papa had hired her, Rachel had initially been trepid, but then Miss Shelby surprised her. She's strict, but fair, and Rachel quickly became one of her favourite students, as Miss Shelby became popular with the small brunette also.

But still, seeing the woman angry frightens her – it's not as bad as Quinn made it out to be, but remains pretty scary. So she'll do everything to avoid it.

Only today her mind has been elsewhere and her sewing work is suffering because of that, not to mention her other subjects weren't nearly as impressive as they can be. Really, Miss Shelby should be at her most cross. And she…isn't. It's leaving the younger girl baffled.

Miss Shelby lets out a drawn sigh, eyes flickering over the lazy handiwork once more before she sits herself beside Rachel. "What's wrong?"

Her face must say it all. Eyes wide, mouth open, a white ghosting over her skin. "Nothing," she squeaks, because she can't find out about the reason that she's been distracted all day. She just can't. She's most likely honor bound to tell Papa anything that she thinks he'll want to know, and that probably includes where his two children had been gallivanting off to the previous evening.

A warm hand encases Rachel's, and she allows herself to relax. "Rachel, you've barely been here all day. You kept zoning out when we were going over conjugation in Spanish, and even your singing has been lacklustre. I've never seen you so distracted… is everything okay?"

She's a good actress, she knows, but the thought of lying to Miss Shelby makes her sick to her stomach. _It's not lying_; Rachel tries to tell herself, _just withholding the truth._ Looking into the woman's soft, brown eyes, she shakes her head, "It's fine. There's no need to worry. I'm just – a little ill, I think. It must be something that I've eaten!"

In an instant, a hand is placed to her forehead, "You haven't got a fever."

"I'm sure I'll be back to my usual self tomorrow," she insists. And she will be, if the images of the stranger will stop haunting her.

The older woman doesn't look convinced, but nods anyway, handing Rachel back the material in her hand, "let's hope so. Let's get back to work. Only half an hour more and then you're free to do what do want for a while."

She smiles and her head swoops down to begin the sewing again. She pricks her fingers a few more times, from zoning out and thinking about a certain someone, but hides it from Miss Shelby.

The minute Blaine gets home from work, she's on his back like a leech, his own personal shadow for the whole of dinner and afterwards. She begins to follow him to his room and he feels the need to stop her before she joins him in there. "Hi," she smiles brightly as he spins, his face confused when it comes face to face with hers.

"Rachel," he gives an exasperated sigh, "what're you doing? I need to get changed."

Her gaze slows over his work clothes, knowing that he wants to change into something more comfortable. He'd told her about how they'd made fun of his outfit choice yesterday, and how he intends to fit in much more today. To be honest, she doesn't exactly remember much of their outfits, or lack or outfits, from the prior day.

Her brows scrunch together, "isn't that Kurt's jacket?" Her hands smooth down the arm of his suit; sure that she'd seen it on her friend only a week or so ago. And, as far as she knew, they both didn't own the _same_ suit.

"No," he says quietly, clearing his throat, "this is mine."

Confusion rising further, she shakes the thought from her mind; she must be mixing it up with something else… He runs a hand through his curls, eyes straining to keep to the floor.

"Anyway," Blaine quickly changes the subject, a hand clasped on his bedroom door, "why have you been stalking me since dinner?"

"So what time are we going?" She completely ignores his question, moving back and forth on the balls on her feet, hands perched innocently behind her.

"What?"

"To the…" she begins and then thinks better of herself. The walls have ears, you know? "The _you know what."_

Realization hits his face. "Oh? You mean the 'you know what' that you are _not_ going to?"

Her mouth falls open, Rachel desperately grasping for words. "B-b-but…" She fails.

And he raises an eyebrow, as if questioning his words with be fruitless, because he's made his mind up and Blaine can be stubborn when he wants to. The only problem is that she's equally as stubborn, if not more so, and she won't settle for that. "I thought you agreed that I could come?" She folds her arms, almost as though trying to put herself into a threatening position. Which is _not_ very effective.

"Yesterday," he rolls his eyes, "and the invitation doesn't extend to today."

"_Blaine_." She stomps her foot.

"Rachel," he counters, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"I'm coming," she insists. The urgent need to go back to that boxing club overwhelms her, but she doesn't let it show to Blaine. He doesn't need to know why, _no one_ needs to know other than her. When he starts to protest, she says, "I'll tell Papa." She feels like she's going to be using that threat a lot, and she's not usually one for blackmail, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

His eyes widen. Really, he should have been expecting that, before his shoulders slump in defeat and a smile twitches on his lips, "you're gonna use that every time, aren't you?"

She nods firmly, jaw setting.

"Fine," he relents, "I'll let you come." His eyes move over her slowly, "try not to get in the way."

Oh, she'll be _very_ happy watching from the side lines.

Without thinking, she catches her brother in a tight hug, pressing her face into his shoulder. "Thank you! I promise that I won't say a word. I'll be silent the full time you're there. You won't even notice me."

* * *

"… and then Sam said that I have the best voice in the whole of New York which, of course, I was inclined to agree." She smiles, a little too smugly, to herself, "and then – "

"Rachel," he soothes his already aching forehead. First a long day at work and now _this_. "I love you and all, but please be quiet for, I don't know like, five minutes." His eyes plead with her, and she takes the hint, clamping her mouth closed with a quick nod.

She practically skips behind him, soft pink dress blowing in the breeze. Tonight, he'd told her to wear something more inconspicuous, something that would make her blend in this part of town, but it's Rachel and it didn't surprise him when she flounced out of her room in perhaps one of her more fancy outfits. And really, he didn't have the energy to argue with her on it.

They enter_ Schuester's_ quickly, both glad to be out of the blistering cold. It's much the same as the previous night, maybe with more people around, and the same nerves wrap his body in a tight knot. He knew that he should have asked Kurt to come with him. Tomorrow; he can't forget to do it then.

Turning to Rachel, he catches her smiling up at him. He doesn't know whether he's supposed to wait for Finn, or go and find him… so he stays put and hopes that Finn will come to get him. It might be quite hard – he's not exactly the tallest guy.

They sit together on the bench, the one that he'd left her at yesterday, and it's not long before he hears her singing under her breath, using it as something to cure her boredom. He smiles; there's no one more invested in singing that his sister. If she could, she'd have her own Broadway show and star as _every_ character.

He starts to gear himself up for the training session ahead of him; knowing that he's got to put his all into it, and he hopes that with Finn as his trainer he'll improve his technique and skill (and maybe he wants to impress a certain someone, but that's a secret.) He knows in his heart that he'll be good at this, if he puts in the work, and he doesn't care about what other people think. Still looking around, he feels his heart sinking lower and lower as there's no sign of Finn.

It was 6:30 that they agreed to meet at, right? No, he's sure of it. His memory is impeccable.

Rachel is still singing beside him, tapping the old bench to create a small rhythm. As she catches him staring, she silences, eyes widening ever so slightly. "What?" she asks like a child that's just about to be scolded.

"Nothing," he shakes his head, "I was just thinking that you're probably going to get bored here. You know, waiting around every day. Do you really think it's worth it?" She'd be better off at home, he thinks. He's not exactly comfortable with her being around so many men, whom are all a _lot_ older than her, and would most likely be more than willing to prey on young girls like her. She's his _little sister, _and he can't help but feel protective of her. He always has been. She's just so innocent, so oblivious to all the bad in the world, and he wants to keep her away from it. He supposes that that's the only thing he and his Father will ever agree on, knowing full well that the man thinks similar about Rachel.

He smiles as she lays her head against his shoulder. "Where is this guy?" she questions impatiently, a pout already forming on her lips.

Blaine shakes his head. He wishes that he could answer her.

Not long after, he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, "Rachel, I need to er – go to the bathroom. Just wait here."

She hesitates, remembering what happened the last time he left her alone. She doesn't want to make that a regular occurrence. But she nods silently, offering him a tiny smile as he goes off in search of a bathroom.

She's impatient, she knows. Things happening slowly just doesn't do it for her. She wants every too quickly.

With a tiny sigh escaping her mouth, she crosses her legs and smooths out her dress, wanting to find Blaine again, but he probably wouldn't appreciate her barging into the bathroom while he's… _doing that_.

She shakes her head, fanning herself a little. It's so warm in here and all she's doing is sitting; she can't even imagine having to train like this – no wonder they're so eager to rid themselves of shirts the entire session. Rachel slips off her coat, slinging it over her shoulder, as her mind begins to wander to yesterday, how it seemingly changed her life so quickly, without a warning. And then she thinks about where that guy is, whether he's okay. It'd been a terrible hit; looking so, so painful, and she hopes with all her heart that he's fine, or at least, as fine as he can be.

Turning her head, she breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of Blaine once more, feeling instantly comfortable with him around. But… who's that person with him?

He's _tall_ – it's almost comical how much he towers over her brother.

And he's strongly built, his muscles showing even through the thin vest thrown over his body. They walk nearer to her, and she sits up straighter, dying to get a look of the man who must be Blaine's new trainer. She needs to thank him, of course, for giving him a chance! She jumps onto her feet, wondering if she'll even be able to see the guy from all the way down here.

They near and she catches a glimpse of his face as they pass the large window, light enhancing his soft features, highlighting the bruise hugging his right eye…

Rachel feels her breathing slow, body once again locking into position upon realizing who the man is.

_The boxer_; he's her brother's trainer.

With huge eyes, she stares at them both. They stop in front of her, led by Blaine, and the man finally looks up from the conversation with the boy, his own hazel eyes widening – the same (_beautiful_) eyes that she remembers from yesterday.

She opens her mouth to say something, but no words fall out. Blaine regards her with confusion, her reaction a complete mystery to him, then he glances up at Finn, wearing a look which almost mirrors his sister's, and things become even more complicated.

"Rachel," he tries, hoping to bring them both from their stares, "this is my trainer, Finn."

It does nothing to break the gaze that they hold.

"And err," he clears his throat uncomfortable, "this is my sister Rachel." He pats Finn's shoulder, glad when the physical contact breaks whatever the hell was just going on, and Finn shakes his head.

"Your sister," he says slowly, eyes wary.

Rachel instantly throws out her hand for him to take – trying to ignore the fact that it's shaking (because it's him, the guy she's been thinking about all day!) – and she smiles as he takes it. The smile flips upside down as he shakes it rather than kissing it, which is what most men do upon meeting a lady.

But he's looking at her like he isn't doing anything wrong, which throws her off. His smile is a little forced, and it doesn't look all that good on him. She wants the one that she'd seen a few moments ago as he'd spoke the Blaine; the soft, carefree smile that made her want to smile too. Why is that reserved for Blaine but not her? What did she ever do to him?

"Are we going to get started?" Blaine says eagerly, eyes bright with excitement.

Finn tears his thoughtful gaze from Rachel, nodding at the boy. That half smile tugs at his lips, and Rachel huffs to herself, wonderful why he can't smile at _her_ like that. "Yeah," he flicks his head to the side, "go and get some gloves. They're in the other room. You'll have to loan a pair… since I'm guessing that you don't have any of your own…"

Blaine shakes his head, quickly moving to find some gloves, all the time wanting to inwardly jump for joy, but he knows that the notion of happiness wouldn't be received well here, so settles on a large smile.

Now left alone with him, with _Finn_, she summons up her voice. "It's really admirable of you," she says quickly, "to stand up for Blaine in the way that you did, and very kind, also." She adds her well known beam to the end, surprised when he just makes some sort of _noise_ in reply – making no effort to actually speak to her, or acknowledge her gratitude toward him. How rude! Her sudden anger fizzles away when she sees him tenderly rubbing at his cheek, just below his bruised eye.

"It looks bad," she comments and he turns back to her, cocking his head to the side, "not _bad_, but more… er – painful!" She shakes her head at her own foolishly, before adding, "_you_ don't look bad," so quietly that she doubts he heard. "I'm sorry," she finds herself apologizing for his injury, knowing full well that she isn't the one who'd produced it, but feeling altogether sorry for it having happened.

"Yeah, well," he begins, looking almost childish as he searches for the words, "you should be!"

She almost gasps, taken aback. "What?"

"If you hadn't distracted me," Finn starts, eyes blazing, "then I wouldn't have got hit."

The nerve of him! "Oh, so it's _my_ fault that you happened to gaze out into the crowd and begin to stare at me, in turn getting hit by your opponent?"

"Yes, it is."

She scoffs, "that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

His face hardens and, for a moment, she's scared of what he might do, but then he seems to stop himself, calming whatever storm was beginning to arise, and his body visually relaxes. He runs a hand over his sore face, wincing when it hits the tender spot. Despite his prior rudeness, she winces with him. "You should get that checked out…"

"I already did," he snaps, "besides; it's all part of the job."

And she realizes, with a strike of fear to her heart, that this is the job that Blaine wants to do. She prays that he'll stay safe, not knowing what she'd do if his body were ever damaged like this, _or worse_.

Finn won't look at her, the tension of their brief spat still fizzling away, leaving a tense air between the two. She doesn't dislike him, she thinks, but the same can't be said for Finn, who is noticeably glaring at her under a dark glower. Rachel can't fathom how he convinced himself that it's her fault, but then, perhaps he just needs someone to blame for his loss… Her papa is like that – he is never at fault. Maybe soon he'll stop blaming her completely; maybe he'll even befriend her. He is Blaine's trainer, after all. They can't exactly avoid each other. Determined to be the bigger person (_metaphorically_, because she'll never, even in her wildest dreams, meet his huge stature), she forces a bright smile onto her face, just as though she's acting in a play, in time for Blaine to return with his gloves.

The taller man throws one last look at her before he joins Blaine, talking to him in low mumbles. Her curious nature wants to know what words are being exchanged, but it'd probably be of no interest to her, she decides, or more _tells_ herself to satiate said curiosity.

Soon enough they're at the actual training part, and Finn is making Blaine do sits up and push up, forcing her brother to the extent of his strength. All she can do is watch from the side lines, and ignore when she can feel Finn's gaze burning into her skin, knowing full well that he should be looking at Blaine rather than her.

She grows tiresome of watching the same thing over and over, wondering whether it was worth coming at all. Not only is she not having fun, but the person who had held her thoughts all day clearly has some sort of grudge against her – a completely unjust one, may she add – and is making it known with random glares thrown her way.

Still, she thinks as the room heats so much that Finn tugs off his shirt, once again showing off his impressive body, it could be worse. Her skin itches with something that she doesn't quite know, causing her to shift about in her seat. He leads Blaine over to a large, brown punching bag, his own body handling it easily before he demonstrates with a few hits of his own.

His face is hard, concentrating – a thin layer of sweat gathering on his brow as he adds blow after blow to the defenceless bag. Each time there's a resounding slam around the room. And, despite knowing that she shouldn't be staring, she can't _not_ stare. His arms are the main sight of attraction tonight, large biceps flexing each time he hits the bag again, and she has to take a moment to fan herself, but not because of the heat of the room.

She really doesn't know what's come over her – looking at men in such a way… it's not something that she should be doing. But this new and dangerous feeling is also exciting – _thrilling_ – and she's going to allow herself to indulge in it further, while she's sure she won't get caught. Blaine's too busy training, her Papa doesn't even know she's here, and Finn is promptly trying to ignore her presence.

He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand as he watches Blaine, observing his own technique while in turn Rachel stares at him, looking like she's lost in a daydream. It could be a dream for all she knows; his fit physique feeling like something that is far too perfect to be real.

She doesn't hide her disappointment when Finn decides to call it a day.

Standing by Blaine now, she eyes Finn, so close that she could just reach out and touch his hard chest… but she doesn't! Because that would be wrong – she _can't_ do that. Her brother returns the gloves, panting and exhausted from the first session, but he's still smiling, as always.

Finn returns to his own work out, hitting the bag with a surge of energy. Once again, she can't do anything other than stare.

"You know," he stops, his loud voice startling her as it echoes around the room. Most have gone home now, and she feels decidedly more alone than ever. Just her and Finn in the room, "you shouldn't come here if all you're going to do is stare at me. First of all, it caused me to get a black eye." He points to his own for effect, and she resists an eye roll, "and secondly, it puts me off. How am I supposed to work with some kid gawking at me?"

He's just trying to wind her up and it's working, well. But she smiles at him, sweetly saying, "I'll see you soon Finn."

He rolls his eyes, muttering something about 'damn kids' and then serves one loud punch into the centre of the back. It shakes violently, and Rachel finds herself biting her lip, that strange sensation washing over her once again.

"Also," he adds, "try to keep your mouth _closed_ next time you want to drool over me – you'll catch flies in there."

"Why I –"

She cuts herself off as she sees Blaine coming back in, saying a few thankful words to Finn before wrapping his arm in hers. "See you kid," Finn grins down at her, seemingly enjoying the offended look on her face. But then his hand brushes against her shoulder as he leads them to the door, and her skin burns at his touch, the heat moving up to her face.

Rachel leaves, feeling more confused than ever.

* * *

**So, I'd love you if you dropped by to give a review :)**

**And thank you for reading!**


	3. III

**I can't believe that this has so many reviews! Thank you, you wonderful people :) So, I've decided that I'm going to try and update weekly, every Saturday to be precise, so I'll make my friends nag me in order to do so :P**

**Thank you to Lucy for beta'ing! (and not flailing over the klaine stuff too much) **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"_Faster_."

"_Harder_."

"_Come on, you're sleepwalking through this."_

"Look I'm doing my best," Blaine finally snaps, turning his exhausted expression in Finn's direction, who doesn't seem to react to the outburst. All that she notices is his jaw tensing, and his eyes hardening to the empty, hazel pools that she's grown accustom to. At this point, it's rare that his smile will reach his eyes, not that he smiles often anyway, especially not at her.

No, it's that stupid smirk that she's groan to loathe. Or, she thinks she loathes it. It's confusing really – since it sparks more untouched feelings in her, and she doesn't know how to react to them. It's not exactly like there's anyone she can tell either. Her Papa locks himself up in his office for hours on end, Blaine is decisively distracted lately, as is Kurt. So, for now, all she can do is hope that these feelings disappear in time (though something tells her that they won't – call it her intuition).

"Is that what you're going to say to the guy that you're _fighting_ next week? _I'm doing my best_!" He throws up his hands in exasperation, his own annoyance clear to the whole room. Blaine hits the bag again, teeth clenched, this time the action from pure anger rather than any actual training. Finn reaches out instantly, halting the movement of the bag. "Control your temper," he bellows, in turn almost contradicting his statement.

She watches curiously, unsure of what to make of Finn, _still_. And it's been four days! She's always thought herself a good judge of character and yet, this man, he leaves her completely baffled, and she doesn't like it one bit. Rachel's eyes return to the scene before her, Blaine flinching away from Finn as he shouts, though his own eyes dark and annoyed – she's seen that look on her brother a lot, especially this last week where it seems like it's the _only_ expression he's worn.

Finn doesn't seem to notice about Blaine's obvious annoyance these past few days. That, or he doesn't care. And she really can't be sure about which option it is.

"I _am_." Blaine huffs, wiping at his forehead with the back of his arm and keeping his intense gaze on the larger man.

"No, you're not." His teeth clench together, "and that's not gonna win you your fight." Finn looks down, realizing that he's clutching onto Blaine's vest, almost dragging the boy up. His knuckles are ghostly white, hand straining under the tension, before he blinks, taking a step back. For a moment, regret lingers in his eyes. Rachel, from where she's sat, scrunches her nose up in confusion at his actions – he truly is a riddle.

Her eyes never leave him as he mumbles for Blaine to continue practising, and then he begins to stalk off. She's on her feet before she's even thought about it. On his trail, she finds him by the reception area, pacing back and forth. He spouts profanities, low grunt escaping his lips in between, like he's some sort of wild animal.

"You know," she speaks up, causing him to jump and frown at the sight of her, "you should really practice what you preach."

"As if I'd listen to you," he scoffs. In a quieter voice, Finn says, "I thought I told you to go home anyway, kid, what're you still doing here?"

A deep frown sets against her lips, "you can't make me leave."

"Clearly," he says tersely.

"Anyway, I need to stay here for Blaine… to _protect_ him."

This at least earns a hollow laugh from the man, who then raises an eyebrow and bears down at her. "Protect him? _You're_ going to protect him? From what?"

Rachel doesn't say anything, keeping her eyes firmly to the ground as Finn continues to snigger. She doesn't mind that so much; she can handle herself, but the answer to his question lingers in her mind, remaining unspoken. It doesn't stop it from echoing around her mind; _himself_. No, she keeps it to herself and instead focuses her attention of Finn who, thankfully, seems to have calmed down and has returned to his usual self.

Well, she's not sure that she should be thankful for that, seeing as his 'usual self' entails constantly telling her to "shut up" and "stay out of the way", but she supposes that it's better than him being in a rage. Finn glances at her, mouth twisting unevenly, "…why're you looking at me like that?"

She blinks. Has she been staring at him? "What?"

"It kind of creeped me out… oh wait, that's normal for you." He grins.

With a sigh, she rolls her eyes, "Finn."

He does that a lot, makes sly comments about her, and then offers a large smile afterwards. In the recent days, he's made it clear that he doesn't like her, one bit. The only thing that he does like about her is that there seems to be an endless supply of things for him to mock, from the 'high squeaking' of her voice or the fact that it's apparently 'past her bedtime.'

"Kid," he responds.

"Would you stop calling me that? I'll have you know that I'm extremely mature for my age."

Finn instantly shakes his head, "whatever you say." He then cracks his knuckles loudly, making her wince at the sharp noise, and in hot on his tail as he starts moving away. "Do you have to follow me around like a damn shadow all day?" he snaps, though immediately regrets it when he catches sight of her crestfallen expression. "Sorry." The mumble can barely be heard, but she can tell that he means it, "I'm kind of tired, and when I'm tired, I'm cranky."

"Why're you tired?" she asks, voice laced with concern. She doesn't know why she questions him. Maybe, on some level, she considers this man a _friend_, and like a good friend insists upon caring for his well-being. That's sad, she thinks to herself, a hint of bitterness lingering, that the only person that she can consider her friend (bar Kurt and Blaine who she's known for a _very_ long time) thinks that she's some annoying child.

He visibly tenses, like a statue frozen for a few moments, before sad eyes meet hers. "It doesn't matter."

She's quick to think otherwise, "it's very important to be well rested, especially in such a … _physical_ career as this." Her eyes linger over his athletic body. Damn him for his apparent dislike of shirts or vests, or anything to hide his toned chest and stop her from staring (who's she kidding? She'd probably stare even if the glorious torso was covered).

Rachel feels rough fingers against her skin, and Finn physically pushes her chin up, that same smirk playing on his lips, "what did I tell you about staring with your mouth wide open?"

"I-I… um."

Though his touch is now gentle, it's still there, and her skin in on fire from the mere graze of his fingers. She feels her breathing quicken, her cheeks reddening. He notices her expression, eyes widening in alarm for a second, before he snatches his hand away in an instant, looking alarmingly more panicked that she's ever seen him. He's been angry before, a lot actually, and rude, but sometimes he's been nice (or as nice as he _can_ be) though she's never, ever witnessed this before. He looks _terrified_.

She hesitates, "Finn?"

"Go home," he tells her harshly.

"But – "

"Go home kid." His voice is low, like it's trying to be threatening. She knows that she should be scared – she's seen how much he can do – but she isn't, not one bit.

Rachel frowns; she just doesn't get Finn. One minutes he's joking around, at her expense but still, and the next he's cold with her, like she's done him great wrong. _Has_ she done something wrong? She shakes her head, knowing that that's foolish – all she's been is friendly, and it's not her fault that Finn isn't reciprocating that.

Why does he act like this? Her interest in him is reaching an all-time him, and she's determined to find the source of his attitude – there's got to be some good in him, right? He offered to train Blaine when no one else would, and he's good to her brother, mostly, so why isn't he like that all the time?

"…and now with the staring again," Finn groans, "look, I don't need you here; I don't you want here. And you annoy the fuck out of me. So if you'd kindly stop coming and stay in your perfect little house in your perfect little life it'd be much appreciated."

Her frown deepens, "you think I'm annoying?"

"Oh my god, take a hint and please just go!" He shouts exasperatedly.

Rachel bows her head, trying to fight back the tears brimming in her eyes. It's silly, to get hurt from the words of a person that she barely knows, but she can't help herself.

She finally steps away from him, not daring to give him a glance of her upset face, and she turns to go find Blaine. He's still practising, releasing his own anger with each hit thrown at the bag. He notices her come back, stopping in his actions. "Hey, is he coming bac – are you okay?"

"I want to go home," she says simply.

His eyebrows furrow down in confusion, gaze moving from her to the room where she'd just been with Finn. "Why?"

Rachel feels her bottom lip wobbling dangerously.

"No one… did anything to do, right?" He asks, urgently, a hint of protectiveness in his voice.

"No," she whispers, wrapping her arms around herself, "I'm fine, I just want to go."

* * *

"So are you ever going to tell me?" he starts again after a good five minutes of silence. By now, they're near their home, the grand buildings all around them. Just being back in her neighborhood is putting her slightly at more ease, and helping her to forget about Finn Hudson and his cutting words, though only slightly.

"It doesn't matter," she mumbles, eyes still staring to the ground. Blaine looks at her with worried eyes.

More silence.

"Actually, I don't think I'll go with you tomorrow."

He frowns, wondering how she suddenly went from insisting upon joining him, to acting like it's nothing. What had happened to her today?

"Rachel?"

"I have lots of things to do," she tells him. Of course, it's a lie. She's always got more spare time than she knows what to do with, but she'd rather be bored than go back. "You should ask Kurt to go with you, if you don't want to be alone."

Blaine slowly nods, "you're alright though?"

"I'm fine," she replies quickly, _too_ quickly. But he knows that it's useless to try and get it out of her, and so sighs.

They arrive at the house, Blaine suddenly becoming a lot tenser as he enters, eyes scanning around for any sign of their Papa. She stares up at him, knowing full well that him and Papa aren't on speaking terms, and she starts to recall that evening…

* * *

_Three days earlier..._

* * *

She's reading when she first begins to hear the shouting, muffled by the walls of her Papa's office. A frown sweeps across her face, before she shakes her head and continues to read. It's happened before; him and Blaine arguing, or 'discussing' as they both insist to her, anything to make her _not_ worry.

At first, she'd assumed that it were something to do with work. That'd been a couple of years ago when Blaine began to work for their Papa, and he hadn't liked it – still doesn't – but it's what he must do.

It'd taken her a while to realize that, in fact, it was nothing to do with work. Her Papa and Blaine – they just don't mesh. They're completely different people; with their own outlooks and beliefs, and they're stubborn as each other when it comes to them. Which, of course, leads to a build up a tension and, finally, an explosion of said tension.

She slowly turns the crisp page of the book, trying to focus on the words when more sounds interrupt her, causing her to sit straight, eyes gazing in the direction of the office. Rachel sighs to herself, curling her legs further into her body. Before she knows it, the door shoots open, slamming against the wall and shaking the pictures around it. Next comes out Blaine, his face red with anger and hurt, and she feels a knot in her stomach at the sight of him. Papa follows, annoyance registering on his own face – it's one of the few emotions that they see from him - and he tries to stop Blaine.

"You're overreacting son." His voice is calm; his many years of business has given him the patience to do so.

Blaine, on the other hand, scrunches up his face, shaking his head. "I won't do it Father. Y-you can't make me." His voice strained, he continues, "I can't marry her."

At this, Rachel almost drops the book in her hands. Blaine… _marry_? A part of her knew that this was bound to happen soon – he is a fine suitor for any girl, after all – but then her brother had shown no interest in courting or marriage and it'll just slipped from her mind. She supposes that he's at the age now where one must start to consider it… Still, the thought of him leaving home to go and settle into another life makes her a little uneasy. He is her brother, and without him it'd just be her and Papa, and she doesn't want that – she can't even begin to _imagine_ how much she'd miss him if her were gone.

"I've given you chance after chance," Papa starts, "to find a wife for yourself; I thought you'd appreciate that, but instead you've been wasting your and my time, and now I'm making the decision for you."

"No," he whispers, the fear of god in his eyes. She feels her heart clutch tightly at the sight of it.

"Blaine, it's about time that you got married."

"I'm not even twenty yet!"

Papa frowns, "your mother was married at seventeen! And she had you at eighteen."

The mention of her deceased mother makes Rachel's body drown in longing for a woman that she never knew. The worst of it is, she thinks, that her Papa literally refuses to tell her anything about her mother; not one story. She'll take _anything_, really. What she looked like; what her favourite hobbies were; even her favourite color – she just wants to know something about the woman who she shares half her genes with.

To make things worse, the house is completely devoid of the woman. She remembers once, when her and Blaine had been very young, they'd tried to find something of their mother's in the grand house, only to be punished by their angry Papa after being caught. It'd traumatized her into never trying again.

Rachel gulps slowly, eyes training onto Blaine again. He can't see her from where she's sat, and she's thankful for that, as it allows her to listen without anything being hidden from her, like usual.

"And was it her _choice_ to marry you?"

"How dare you – of course it was." She winces at the acidic tone to her Papa's voice.

"Did you love her?"

His question catches Papa off guard, the man's face dropping.

Blaine blinks, tears now appearing in his large brown eyes, "and did she love you? Did you love each other?"

"I won't hear any more of this Blaine."

Her brother shakes his head, "you don't understand Father. I _can't_ marry Quinn."

"You can, and you will. She's from a good family and I thi – "

"I don't care what you think! What about what _I_ think?!" Blaine suddenly bursts, fists clenching together tightly, "I don't want to spend the rest of my life with someone that I know I can never have feelings for – who I might not even be happy with." He steps back, eyes still boring into her Papa, sadness swimming in them, "not when I know that my heart truly belongs somewhere else." He turns, wiping at his eyes quickly, before rushing up the stairs to his bedroom, where he'll most likely stay for the rest of the night. She sits, an uneasy feeling clutching at her body.

She doesn't like it, seeing Blaine so unhappy – it's natural to feel protective of your siblings, and they're no exception. Only, he's got to listen to Papa, right? He's the man of the house; his rules are supposed to be followed. Doesn't Blaine understand that?

Rachel picks up the fallen book, wanting nothing more than to leave the tense air around her and retreat to her own room. Before she's even out of the room, Papa enters, a hand rubbing over his face, full of worry lines. She offers a small smile, brushing out her clothes subconsciously.

His eyes meet hers, "you heard that, I assume?"

She hesitates, before nodding and biting her lip.

Papa's frown deepens. He sits himself on the large chair by the fire, motioning for her to come toward him. She does so, a little hesitantly, and then says, "yes Papa?"

"Sit," he tells her. She obeys, perching herself on the end of the sofa, body unnaturally stiff.

"You're very close to your brother, right?" Rachel nods, thinking that it's rather obvious. Growing up, it'd just been them, and Kurt after about her tenth birthday, but still, she thinks that she has a special bond with Blaine. "I need you to talk to him."

"Why?" she tilts her head to the side.

Papa closes his eyes for a second, using his most gentle voice as he speaks to her, "because I need you to talk him into this marriage."

That uneasy feeling sweeps through her again. "I don't think that will be easy…" she admits, the scene replaying in her head. If Blaine doesn't want to do something, he won't don't it, especially something as big as marriage.

"You must try," Papa insists, grasping her by the shoulders.

"But he doesn't love her; he doesn't even know her," she start weakly, trying to think of a way to help her brother, who is so outwardly opposed to the idea.

A look of anger flashes across Papa's face, before he seems to gain control of himself, "Rachel, sweetheart, it's very, very important that you do as I say." She finds herself staring into his dull, brown eyes, and wondering why he's pushing this so much. Can't he just wait for Blaine to find a suitor for himself?

"I don't k – "

"He'll learn to love her," he tells her, nodding his head slowly, and she doesn't realize when she nods along too, her own eyes wide. "And they'll be happy together. She's a very love girl." Her nose scrunches up in disagreement. Alongside a forced smile, he reaches out and gently tucks some of her hair behind her ear, "can you do this for me?"

She bites her lip.

"For our family?"

Finally, she relents. "Okay Papa, I'll talk to him." Despite the smile on her lips, she still feels sick to the stomach at the thought of this. She's just obeying orders, she tells herself, and that's her role as the daughter, right? And then it'll be the same once she's a wife. Is this the sort of life that she's resigned to? Being told what to do like an obedient puppy? She sighs.

"There's a good girl," Papa smile genuinely this time, now that he's got his way, and begins to stand.

After that, Rachel attempts to talk to Blaine, but he shuts her – and everything – else out for the rest of the evening. She eventually gives up, knowing that she can't change his mind about this, but she wonders how much Papa will try to make him to do.

* * *

_Present time..._

* * *

Blaine quickly starts to make his way up the stairs, wanting to get directly to his route with no diversions. She wonders how long this is going to go on for – why can't everyone just get along and be nice to each other? Finn pops into her head again, and she tries to shake him out.

She follows his path up the stairs, taking the turn toward her own room, where she can stay in solitude for the rest of the evening.

* * *

He rushes around to get ready, making sure to keep out of his Father's way, which is actually rather easy after years of learning how to do so. For a moment, he forgets about Rachel telling him she won't be joining him today, and he finds her in the lounge, a book in hand.

"You ready?"

She slowly looks up, a sad smile on her face. "I told you, I'm not coming today."

"I thought that you liked coming?" he questions her.

"I'm busy," she tells him primly, returning to the book in hand.

Blaine slowly tilts it so that he can see the title, "you've read that one before." She doesn't say anything, which is _so_ unlike his sister that it scares him a little. "Rachel?"

"You're going to be late," she tells him, "you should go." Finally, she manages to smile, "have fun Blaine."

A little reluctantly, he leaves, starting the familiar path to the club. His smile widens when he catches sight of Kurt, waiting where he'd asked him, and he resists the urge to break out in a run in order to greet him faster. When he reaches him, he feels the usual excited thump of his heart and that same happiness wash over him.

"Hey," he smiles, daring a hug; anything else will get them in trouble if they're caught.

"I thought that you weren't coming for a while then," Kurt confesses, "what took you so long? And where's little miss bossy pants?"

Blaine laughs at his name for Rachel, something that he'd called her ever since they were younger, "she wants to stay at home. I don't know why, but she seemed pretty insistent on it."

"Well," he smirks, "looks like it's just you and me then." The suggestive glint in his eyes makes Blaine's smile widen.

"Come on, we've got to get there first. I'm getting better, you know? And I … I really want to show you how much I've improved."

"I wouldn't be opposed to that," Kurt grins.

The two fall into a comfortable conversation as they make the walk to the boxing club. Being with Kurt lets him forget his worries, and he wants nothing more than to have to face them again, but he fears that his Father is going to keep pushing them, pushing _him_. Until, one day, he'll just snap, unable to take it anymore.

He feels sick at the thought of marrying Quinn, of marrying anyone – anyone except a certain someone. But right now, that's impossible, and he'd be a fool to convince himself otherwise.

And he knows that he can't hide from his Father's wishes forever. He'll have to get married one day, to a person who he doesn't love; who he can't possibly love, and it kills him.

"You okay?" Kurt's sweet voice pulls him from his thoughts, and he plasters a smile onto his face. The other boy sees through it straight away. "_Blaine_…"

"I just – I don't know how to tell Father that I can't marry Quinn without telling him the truth and you know him, he'd never, _ever_ understand."

Kurt frowns, knowing that Blaine speaks the truth. "Maybe one day you'll just have to tell him, whether he'd understand or not. It's your life Blaine, not his." He hesitates, "and I don't want to see you unhappy with it, not even for a second."

He feels his heart swell at Kurt's words. "I love you," he reminds the man.

"I love you too," he replies fondly. For a brief moment, their hands meet, the usual surge of electricity shooting through them at such a simple touch. Each smile lovingly at the other.

"Come on, we don't want you to be late," Kurt says, picking up the pace. "I can't believe I had to wait _four_ days to even be invited to this place," he looks pointedly toward Blaine, who in turn blushes sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, I should have taken you the first time – I wish that I did – but it'd look suspicious if we were both gone for the same amount of time…"

Kurt nods slowly, "I guess so. Well, at least I'm here today, and I can't even begin to describe how excited I am. It feels like so long since I've seen you train…" He smirks, remembers the days when Blaine were allowed to do so in his own home, and he didn't have to hide his passion. "You know how I always liked it."

"Hmmm," Blaine agrees, "if I remember correctly, you were quite fond of me doing it shirtless."

"I didn't want you to overheat," he replies slyly, making Blaine laugh.

Soon enough they're inside, and Blaine can see Finn talking to Will, who frowns at the sight of him there.

"I can see why Rachel liked it here so much," he hears Kurt comments and turns, noticing the man gawking at the athletic bodies surrounding him. Jealously sparks within Blaine, but he shrugs it off, knowing that Kurt would never cross _that_ line.

"Are you suggesting that my sister came here just to… to stare at all these guys?" He tilts his head.

Kurt laughs, squeezing Blaine's shoulder. "I think your baby sister is a little _less_ innocent than you give her credit for. You honestly don't think that she _wouldn't_ look? Come on." He raises an eyebrow. "Rachel's a smart girl, Blaine."

He scrunches up his nose slightly, "I don't need to hear about Rachel and... that, okay?"

"But you know it's true. She's growing up -"

"Don't remind me."

"And one day she'll have a husband of her own, and maybe a few kids." He chuckles at Blaine's expression.

"Blaine."

Two sets of eyes focus on the man standing between them, towering over both. He looks tired, dark circles surrounding each eye, and wearing pale skin. And when he tries to smile, it's incredibly forced.

His face quickly drops, "where's Rachel?" Then he gaze sets on Kurt, "and who's this?"

"Rachel couldn't come today," he says simply, "and this is Kurt. My – my _friend_."

Finn's eyes move from Blaine to Kurt, and then back again. He takes in their close proximity; the way they keep staring at one another, and the way that Blaine'd said 'friends'. Friends his ass. But he just nods, and gets ready to start the session.

Kurt stays by him, unlike Rachel who usually sits on one of the benches, but he's thankful for Kurt to be so close. Today, Finn isn't nearly as touchy as he has been. He does seem a little out of it, but that isn't exactly bad. At least he's not yelling at him – he gets enough of that from his Father – as he knows that he'd probably end up shouting back.

He can feel Kurt's eyes burning into his skin the minute he takes off his vest, the heat getting to him. It's not unwelcome though, and he finds himself trying harder when he knows that Kurt is looking.

Throughout the entire session, he notices Finn staring off, and it's right at the end when he realizes that he's been staring at the place where Rachel would be if she'd come today.

* * *

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	4. IV

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* * *

She hums to herself as she moves about the room, running the brush through her long, silky hair to get ready for bed. She circles the room, moving through the French doors to the small balcony. The cold night air embraces her, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin, but she doesn't mind – instead the chill of it is welcome. Rachel stops humming, and starts to let the noise of the city fill the silence.

The sound of footsteps alerts her, and she spins in an instant. When she sees Blaine looking back at her, a soft smile on his lips, she grows sheepish at being so startled and then moves back inside the room, "hey."

"Hi," Blaine smiles, going to close the doors, "you shouldn't leave these open at night. You'll catch a cold."

She shakes her head, "I'm fine." Rachel sits herself on the bed, continuing to brush through her brunette locks, eyes following Blaine as he moves to sit beside her. His hand reaches out, gently easing the brush from her hands and starting to take over. She smiles, and the pair falls into a comfortable silence.

After a while, he stops, and takes the hair piece from her bedside table to tie it up neatly in a ponytail. "Thank you," Rachel says sweetly, then asking, "did you want to talk about something?" He looks worried; his face slightly paler than usual, and eyes unable to look straight to hers. "Blaine?"

"I just…" he starts, but doesn't get very far, face twisting with sadness and uncertainty, "I – Quinn is coming in a couple of days."

Suddenly, his behaviour makes sense. "Oh."

"Yeah," he lets out an empty chuckle.

Rachel places a hand on her brother's arm, squeezing it gently. He lets out a long sigh, his entire body seeming to deflate before her eyes. "Are you alright?"

He hesitates but, needing to get it off his chest, begins to speak. "I still… - I can't do what Father asks of me."

"But you _have to_," she says instantly, mouth falling open in surprise. They should listen to their Papa – he knows what's best for them after all. And the thought of Blaine defying, and downright refusing, to obey his wishes makes her uneasy.

"No Rachel, I don't. And neither do you."

"Bla – "

"You know, deep down, that I'm right. You don't have to follow orders all of your life." He moves to grasp her hand firmly in his; a smile finally reaches his lips as he gazes at her. Their eyes meet, Blaine's serious expression causing her to get chills. "No one should have to. We should live our lives how we want."

Her lips curve downwards, forehead creasing. "But everyone can't do everything that they want. It doesn't work like that-"

Seeing this, Blaine sighs. "Remember when we were kids, and you'd tell me that you were going to be a big star." The memories bring back a wave of nostalgia to Rachel, who can't help but smile as they flood her mind, a smaller Blaine and herself spending hours on end on their own 'stage'. "And you'd sing," he smiles fondly, "you'd sing because you just could, and it made you happy. You should still sing."

"I do sing now," she nudges him gently.

"No. I mean, you should fulfil those little girl's dreams. You should become a star Rachel – not some housewife slaving over a hot oven for a chauvinistic man; you're better than that." He grasps her hands more firmly, "and I shouldn't have to marry Quinn. It seems ridiculous to have so little control over our own future, don't you agree?"

Rachel opens her mouth to speak, but Blaine continues, his words rapid and passionate. "And once more, we cannot be expected to love who they tell us! Don't they understand? You can't just choose who to love. Love chooses you, in all its chaos and wonder – it finds you and," his smile grows impossibly large, "it's like it steals the breath from you, and then you breathe for the first time again, like starting a new life. A new, _better_ life. And… not just anyone can make you feel like that."

His eyes move from where they were gazing off into the distance, completely lost to his thoughts, and looks at her again, "do you know what I mean?"

She hesitates, "I have never been in love."

Leaning forward, he takes her face in his hands, still smiling. "One day Rachel, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. And then maybe you'll understand my aversion to being told exactly what type of person to fall for."

His words, though logical, leave her confused. How does Blaine know so much about love? He isn't in love himself, surely not. He's already made it clear that he holds no feelings towards Quinn, and the only person that he really ever spends time with is Kurt, so how can he have fallen in love without her even knowing the girl?

She stares at her brother, confusion swimming in her eyes. His hands slowly fall from her face, smile still lingering on his lips. "Just think about what I've said." He starts to stand, "the world could use a few more stars, you know?"

"You really think I could do that?" She bites her lower lip, wide eyes staring into those of her brother's.

Blaine smiles, and then nods. "You're more than what Father sees you as. And one day you'll prove that to him and me? I'm going to prove that love is love, no matter what shape or form." He looks to her now, the dread of seeing Quinn once more vanished, like he no longer needs to worry about this wedding. She knows this look; he's got a plan.

But before she has the chance to question him, he leans down and gently kisses her forehead, "goodnight Rachel." He begins to walk away, Rachel following him with her gaze. At the doorway, he stops, fingers curling around the wood slowly. He turns, teeth tugging at his bottom lip in hesitance. "I know you keep saying no, but you should come with me tomorrow."

She lets out a long sigh, setting an annoyed look on him, "I don't…" She trails off, thinking hard. It may have been a couple of days, but the conversation is still fresh in her mind, almost haunting her, and the more she thinks about it, the more she feels the embarrassment swarming back, the moment relived.

She'd been pushy, like an irritating fly, and Finn, he isn't the type of person to like that. He's a creature of solitude, stubbornness, and her being thrown into the mix left him at a loss of how to react, so naturally he'd become offensive. Rachel knows this, she's sure of it; the plot is all too similar to that she's read in so many books about the house.

And the solution? Well, really, considering the possible complications with her plan, there could be more than one solution. The first; stop going and completely eradicate her life of Finn Hudson and his confusing ways. It would be the wise choice. Eventually Blaine won't need a trainer, and the man will be nothing but a distant memory – someone who she won't cast a second thought to in maybe ten, twenty years.

Here's where the complications arise.

She doesn't _want_ that; to _not_ remember him. It's foolish of her! And yet, the more she thinks about it, the less foolish it is, and the more it becomes her _only_ option. She's not thinking with her head, but with her heart. It longs for her to return to him, if only to soak in that warm feeling that fills her body when she's in his presence. And, greedily, she wants to indulge in it as much as she can, for Finn may be rude, arrogant and blunt, but she _likes_ to be with him, as crazy as it sounds. The sessions may be tiresome, sitting there without much to do, yet just seeing him, absolutely in his element, is something that she could watch all day. She's _fascinated_ by this man, and she doesn't think there's any way to cure that by ignoring him.

At least, going back, she can begin to satisfy her curiosity.

Rachel snaps from her thought, looking Blaine dead in the eye. "You know what; I think I will accompany you tomorrow."

"You will?" He looks shocked, but more baffled: she keeps jumping back and forth between wanting to go and demanding to be taken home.

She nods her head determinedly.

In return, he smiles. "Good. I uh - I think Finn missed you, you know."

She gawks at him, "h-he did?" That's just what she needs; another layer added to the mystery in her already overworked mind. He told her - or downright demanded - that she leave and now she's being told that he missed her? It feels like there's a great big gap where all the explanations should be; she just can't seem to understand the man.

"I think so." He says, "He didn't say it out loud, but it looked like he did."

After a few seconds of shock, she manages to nod her head dumbly, trying – and failing – to fit the puzzle pieces together in her head. Eventually, she gives up. "Goodnight Blaine," she says to her still lingering brother. He smiles, bowing his head briefly. She thinks about his words of Quinn, and she wonders how exactly he's going to deal with it, but that thought's soon usurped by another. She's sure that once again Finn Hudson is going to be hindering her usually dream filled slumber tonight.

Reaching to the side, she switches off her bedside lamp, and the room plummets into darkness. She wishes to do the same, but her brain is alert and awake, and she doubts that very much.

* * *

It almost feels surreal, stepping back inside the club, and yet at the same time it's familiar, in a _good_ way, like coming home. Blaine leads Kurt to one side of him, and then her on the other side, arm tightly wrapped around the both of them. Anxiety builds, higher and higher as each second passes. At least she's got Kurt to keep her company if all else fails and she finds herself unable to talk to Finn. Though, thinking about it, she doesn't think that's a problem. The words just seem to burst from her when he's around.

He's talking to another man, one with a shaven head and tanned skin, mouth tugged up in a smirk. She doesn't pay much attention to him however, when Finn starts to turn in their direction. They still stand out; she can admit – especially _her_ – although to Rachel being noticed in a crowd isn't exactly a bad thing.

For a moment, he looks like he's suppressing a smile, and then it fights back, appearing in all its glory and she finds herself smiling back too.

Finn says something to the guy, then begins to head their way. The wild beating of her heart is a reminder as to why she came today, and it only increases the closer he gets.

She stares, craning her neck, the moment he reaches them. In turn, he lowers his gaze to her, seemingly unable to have eyes for anything else. And then it's like he realizes his mistake, snapping back into the emotionless drone that he can be. No smile, no brightly shining eyes – just a vacant expression.

"Hi," she manages to find her voice. She's aware of both Kurt and Blaine observing them, but doesn't look their way.

He struggles with the words himself for a few seconds, before matching her, "hi, "and quickly brushing her off to start the session with Blaine. A little disheartened, she carries herself over to the bench and sits down in a huff. She doesn't catch the way Finn dares a look over his shoulder at her. He starts off with the usual, telling Blaine to do fifty push ups, and she watches as her brother quickly obeys.

It's almost been a week and she can already see the improvements in him, not that she'd seen much of his boxing before, but he's faster, and he seems to strive toward his goal with so much more want. It's quite admirable actually. Kurt takes a seat beside her, his eyes never leaving her brother, and it's like he's thinking the same thing too. Rachel smiles, glad that he has a friend like Kurt.

"So," Kurt begins, eyebrows raising suggestively, "why'd you decide to suddenly make your grand reappearance here? Blaine said that you didn't want to come any more."

She frowns, wondering if she can explain it to him without sounding crazy. In short, the answer is probably no.

"I came to support Blaine," she simply says, hoping that he doesn't question it any further. Unfortunately for her, he does.

"Hmm, and the way that you were looking at Finn had nothing to do with why you're back?"

Damn him!

She stiffens her jaw, eyes fixating straight ahead. "I don't know what you're talking about." She brushes out her skirt and then crosses her legs neatly, avoiding looking in Kurt's direction.

"Rachel," he stifles a laugh, "you're not exactly hiding it well."

"I'm not hiding anything!" Now, her head swivels his way, panic briefly flashing in her eyes. He notices, a smirk crawling onto his lips.

"Oh, I see, you don't want your big protective brother or daddy finding out that you have a thing for Mr broody."

Her eyebrows swoop together, questioning his choice in name for Finn, but she then shakes her head and reaches out to take hold of her friend's arm. "Kurt, please, be quiet," even though her voice itself is the loudest whisper she's ever heard. "I don't have a _thing_ for anyone," she insists, "Finn doesn't even like me." She says this more sadly than she'd expected to, but it's still a nagging point in her mind that, even if her feelings did progress to something more, the fact that she's not very popular in Finn's ranks would counteract that.

She sighs.

"Hmm, I'm going to have to disagree with you on that," Kurt comments.

Rachel stares at him, confusion showing on her face. "What?"

"Well, judging by the fact that he's been asking where you are for the last few days, and all the time that you have been here he's been sending glances your way, I'd say that there's definitely something there. Either that, or he's _really_ interested in that wall behind you."

She sends Kurt a look, hoping to silence him (and distract him from the blush rising on her cheeks) He can't be right, can he? That's… that's utterly crazy! But then why would Finn care where she was, and why would he be looking at her? Unless she has something on her face, whish she's fairly positive isn't the case.

Her heart leaps about triumphantly, her small victory ceasing the moment she looks across the room and finding her own eyes meeting his once more, like they're drawn to each other – connected somehow – and her heart stops leaping. In fact, it feels like it stops moving at all, and she could just pass out any minute.

Somehow, looking at Finn Hudson with this new information is _different_; it feels so, and yet she can't place why.

He tears away first, like always, and she's suddenly left feeling empty. A frown sweeps across her face, Kurt noticing quickly and wrapping his arm around her, "hey, why so down?" He obviously hadn't just felt what she'd felt, and then had it all snatched away the moment their stare broke…

"Nothing," she mumbles. In need of a distraction, she stands, "I'm just going to go to the bathroom."

Kurt nods and lets her go off, happily setting his gaze for Blaine.

Once around the corner, she outwardly breathes a sigh of relief, glad to be from that room, away from all the uncertainties and such which seem to be gathering there. She relishes in the silence for a moment, never intending to go to the bathroom at all. For one, they're not exactly the high condition vicinities that she's used to, and she just needs time to think, to gather the thoughts whizzing about her mind.

Finn… he's just not making this easier for her. It's a constant back and forth with him, and no clues as to why. It doesn't help her already high curiosity.

She throws her head back against the wall, closing her eyes to allow for a peaceful moment.

And, of course, it just has to be interrupted.

"What're you doing?"

At the sound of Finn's voice, she visibly jumps, eyes shooting open, like wide saucers staring back at him. "I – I just… needed a moment to myself," she confesses, as it's not a great diversion from the truth, but really she wanted a few minutes from Finn, and apparently she isn't even allowed that.

He opens his mouth, poised to speak, and then immediately clamps it shut again.

She has the opposite problem, the words falling out before she has time to time. "So you missed me?"

His eyes bulge, expression showing utter shock, like it's the most ridiculous thing that's ever been suggested to him. "What?!"

Rachel quickly backpedals, "Blaine, h-he told me that you were asking about me." She nods along with her words, eyes holding uncertainty. He lifts a large, rough hand, dragging it over his chin, and then tearing his gaze from Rachel. "So why you ordered me to leave a few days ago is completely beyond me. I mean, why send me home when you want me here? I don't know about you, but that's seems rather contradictory and furthermore – "

"Rachel, please," he places a hand on her shoulder, and she feels her breath hitch as she stares at it.

"I don't," she frowns deeply, brown eyes conflicted, "I don't understand Finn."

"What don't you understand?"

She points in his direction. "_You_," she tells him, exasperated, "I don't understand you at all."

Finn's expression shifts to one of sadness, and he shakes his head, "that's because you don't know me."

"Then let me know you!" she almost pleads with her eyes. He can be so frustrating, so _infuriating_, in his inability to understand that for a person to know the real you, then they must be given time to do so – not to be forced away at every chance they get.

He turns from her, his heavily built body facing away from Rachel, and blocking her from seeing the range of emotions across his face. "You don't – it's not that simple Rachel. We're from different worlds, and people like us shouldn't mix."

When he tilts his neck ever so slightly to the side, receiving the full effect of her upset face, he forces himself to continue, "I'm like oil and you're water. They're not _meant_ to be together in any form." At the word 'together', she blushes madly, throwing her gaze to the floor in hopes that Finn doesn't see. "And," he proceeds sadly, "you shouldn't – _we_ shouldn't be friends. Because, well, you…"

"I what?" she questions, voice quiet.

Finn shakes his head, trying to force the words back inside, but they get their way out nonetheless, "you make it easy."

Rachel peers up at him, baffled. She makes it easy to what? He isn't making any sense – well, _that's_ not unusual, but one of these days he's going to have to start speaking in terms that she understands, or things are just going to get even more convoluted.

He finally turns, eyes searching her face. "Look, when I'm with you, I – I don't know why but it's just so easy to let my guard down, to… to open up."

"Isn't that," she starts, "a _good_ thing?"

"No!"

She takes a step back, his sudden anger almost frightening, but she's still unable to tear her gaze from him.

For once, he looks apologetic for making her recoil from him. "I didn't…" He licks his lips, "it's complicated, Rachel, and I don't – I don't want to bring you into this. It's not fair. You're so, so…" The words fall to silence, soon the only thing that she can hear is the pounding of her own heart as he stares at her.

Eventually, she manages a whisper. "What am I?"

"Pure," he says, "innocent. Optimistic. I used to be like that."

She looks at him, seeing him so sad and downtrodden, and it makes her heart ache.

"_Finn_."

He shakes his head again; eyes shining with what she suspects could be tears. Rachel wants nothing more than to reach out to him, hold him until they all wash away; much like Blaine would do to her if she were upset. But she fears that it wouldn't be enough; neither would Finn allow her to get so close to him. He's a closed book – a closed book with a great big padlock donning the front, and all she needs is to find the right key to open it.

He's beginning to walk away, clearly wanting to be away from her and to not 'open up' at all. Because apparently he does with her. While this makes her feel slightly happier, that her presence alone can cause Finn to feel at more ease, it also poses an even bigger problem. It makes him not want to be near her, and now his acts make more sense, even if only a _little_.

But she knows now that he's frightened of people knowing the real him, and so he keeps said Finn trapped somewhere deep inside him, hidden beneath layers and layers of attitude and bitterness for the world, for people from _her_ world. Rachel wonders how he's ever been wronged that way, though her thoughts are dragged back to reality as he quickens his pace, and she follows him in an instant.

"You can't just keep running," she tells him, attempting to keep a hushed voice. It doesn't work, and a few people turn to look at them, including Kurt and Blaine.

"I'm not running."

"Yes, you are," Rachel says, emphasis placed on each word. "And from what, I don't know, and I might not ever know. But what I _do_ know is that it isn't healthy to do this Finn."

He pulls an anguished face, not looking anywhere but at her. "Look, you're just a kid, you can't be expected to – "

"I am not a kid!" she raises her voice, sick and tired of being treated as an inferior because of her age. "And I know what I'm talking about. You can't keep doing this." She challenged him with a glare, determined to get her point across. She's right, she _knows_ she is, and she isn't going to be told otherwise.

Rachel half expects him to tell her to leave again, to never, ever come back, but he doesn't. His jaw locks, his eyes _for once_ filled with an emotion – even if it is sadness – and his shoulders slump in defeat. "I know," he admits.

And that's it. He doesn't stay anything else, to her utmost frustration. He returns to Blaine, who'd seen the whole thing, and who looks lost as to what had happened, but listens to his trainer's instructions obediently.

She doesn't move at first, finding it strange that he'd actually _agreed_ with her on something, but on the other hand he still is making no effort to change what he knows he should. She has no doubt that he'll return to the surly, pessimistic man she's known all week, the one who is rude to her, and gives her a headache just thinking about.

By the time she's sat, eyes still trained on the tall boxer before her, she sighs.

"What was all that about?" Kurt asks her nosily.

She shakes her head, "it doesn't matter." He's not going to change anyway.

* * *

Cold, blue eyes stare back at her, causing her to shift uncomfortable beneath the gaze. She's glad to have Kurt beside her, not wanting to feel like the only one falling prey to the infamous glare of Quinn Fabray. Even now, after knowing the girl for so long, her impressive powers have not waned on Rachel, and it makes her feel about three inches tall.

At least she doesn't have to sit next to her, she thinks, casting a glance in poor Blaine's direction. He's sat completely erect, body stiff and unnatural. It's only when Kurt sends a gentle smile his way that he truly manages to find some comfort in the situation. Rachel only sighs and slowly pushes her food around her plate, wishing that this could be over with already.

The bellowing laughter of Papa, Mr Hummel and Mr Fabray startle her slightly, and her eyes cast in their direction, wishing that she could join in with their fun, but no, she's stuck here with the ice queen herself, and the atmosphere is tense, so thick that she could slice through it with a knife. No one dare speak between the four of them, and any chatter that does occur is hesitant, strained. She hates every second of it.

As soon as dinner's over, she wants to jump for joy, and proceeds to follow Kurt and Blaine from the dining room. It's with much annoyance that she realizes that _Quinn_ is behind them, too.

"What're you doing?" she asks before she can stop herself.

The blonde rolls her eyes, barging past Rachel, "I'm spending some time with my fiancé if that's alright with you."

At the mention of 'fiancé', the three simultaneously tense, eyes locking with one another, and she can practically feel the discomfort radiating from her brother. Kurt looks equally as disturbed by the use of it, his gaze moving toward Blaine, and his hand twitching, in turn brushing against the other man's. For a moment, Blaine seems to relax, but the moment's snatches away quickly as Quinn insists that they go sit down.

Rachel enters after Quinn, the large room seeming suddenly smaller now that she's 'trapped' in here with the girl. She occupies her usual seat by the window, reaching for the book she'd left on the coffee table. She may as well entertain herself while she can, rather than being bored out of her mind for the next few hours.

Her eyes peek over the pages as she hears Kurt announce, "you're in my spot."

"I'm just sitting next to my fianc – "

"That's my place," he insists, face calm yet dismissive of Quinn's reasoning. She's sat next to Blaine on the small sofa, the place where he and Kurt usually reside, and have done for as long as she can remember. It's just the way it is – _their_ place, as Kurt had described.

Quinn relents, begrudgingly so, and moves over to the arm of the sofa on Blaine's other side. Once in his rightful place, Kurt mumbles, "no way am I not sitting next to _kitten boy_." In an instant, Blaine's face reddens in embarrassment, especially when small giggles escape from Rachel at the familiar term for her brother. He hates being called it, or more, he hates being reminded of his obsession with being the superhero kitten boy as a child. She's sure he made it up, but the memory of it never fails to bring a smile to her face.

* * *

_Many years earlier…_

* * *

A ten year old Rachel finishes taping Kurt's hands together with the small piece of material she had, adding in an overly dramatic 'evil' laugh. "And now you're mine forever."

He struggles against his binds, "no! Let me go you, you witch!"

"Never!"

This goes back and forth continuously until they hear footsteps from the hallway, both turning at the sound of them, and Rachel moving closer to Kurt.

All of a sudden a force sweeps her from her feet, knocking the small girl into the sofa. She screams, eyes rising up to meet… Blaine? Only, he's wearing one of her yellow shawls around his neck, pinned together and then covered with a bow tie to complete his 'cape'. "Blaine," she starts to giggle to herself, especially when she notices that he's drawn whiskers on his face, and he's donning a headband of hers, only with triangles stitched to the top, made to look like ears.

"Shh!" he silences her, "I'm kitten boy! And I," he suddenly stops, clearing his throat and speaking in a low voice, "I'm here to save Kurt from the evil witch!"

His heroic statement is discredited the moment both her _and_ Kurt begin to laugh in unison, tears forming in their eyes as they find it that funny. He doesn't find it as hilarious as they do, a sheepish expression forming on his face.

"Hey, it's not…"

He trails off as howls of laughter interrupt him anyway, cheeks blushing madly.

Rachel will never forget this day.

* * *

_Present day…_

* * *

And she never did, continuously mocking her brother for his outfit, much to his chagrin. What's worse is when Kurt joins in, and he becomes more disgruntled but, to them - that being her and Kurt – it's still something funny to remember, a special time between the three of them.

Quinn's eyebrows dip together hearing this with no explanation, and Rachel does her best to hide the smug smile on her lips.

With her still there, the conversation doesn't slip into the usual rhythm, and they all seem less at ease. It's only natural, seeing as they barely know the girl sitting with them, and from previous experiences she isn't going to be a great companion. At least she _tries_ to start a conversation, something about Blaine's work which Rachel is barely interested in; Blaine then manages to shift the conversation focus from him to Kurt, and the promotion that he's no doubt going to earn.

"You are?" Rachel smiles proudly at her friend.

"Oh, don't listen to your brother, you know how he is," he smacks at Blaine's arm playfully.

Rachel notices Quinn staring at the small interaction, and her hand instantly slips around Blaine's squeezing it tightly. Blaine noticeably gulps, leaving his tense hand there for a few seconds before tugging it away and running it through his hair. "It's warm. Is anyone else warm? Is it just me?" He clears his throat, eyes nervously darting about the room.

She hears a tiny _hmmmf_ from Quinn, but otherwise he isn't answered.

She quickly returns to her book, or more uses it as a cover to think about Finn again, his words on constant reply in her mind. A helpful, conscious citizen such as herself should, of course, be willing to help him make the change that he so desperately strives for, and he said it herself – _she_ helps him to let his guard down. So, naturally, it is up to her to help the process along the way and…

Upon hearing loud laughter, she starts to focus back into the conversation to find Kurt and Blaine giggling with one another, Quinn laughing beside them; though from the look on her face it's evident that she's a little lost. For a moment, she pities the girl.

Kurt is practically falling over Blaine with as he laughs heartily to whatever they'd been speaking about. His hands cling to Blaine, using her brother to hold himself up. He eventually calms, going to move away, as he does his hand gliding over Blaine's crotch, earning a squeak from the boy.

She frowns; didn't he know that it was just an accident? Kurt wouldn't do… _that_ on purpose.

The awkwardness lingers for the rest of the evening and, although it gets better as the night progresses, it's still there, adding tension to everything said or done. Kurt announces that he should go home, and Blaine is soon to swoop in, offering to walk him back. She smiles – her brother is so considerate and thoughtful.

Quinn mumbles a 'goodbye' to him, staying put on the sofa, while Rachel stands and pulls her friend into a tight hug.

"Come on," Blaine says, "we should get going." He seems eager to leave.

And they're soon gone, leaving her with Quinn. "Is he always like that?" The blonde asks her, hiding no malice in her voice.

"Like what?" she frowns, unsure of what Quinn is getting at. Is she missing something here?

Before she hears the answer, she notices the broach that Kurt had been wearing that night on the floor; had it fallen from his suit? In her hands in an instant, she holds it carefully, knowing how he feels about his things being broken. "I'm sorry; I need to return this to Kurt." She'd rather do it now while it's at the front of her mind.

She doesn't bother grabbing her coat as she steps outside, wanting to catch them before they return to the house, which is only down the street to theirs. Her small heels click against the concrete floor, and the icy winds causes her teeth to chatter, but she just picks up the speed and tries to find Kurt and her brother.

The street is completely empty, the only noise being the background buzz of the city.

A noise startles her, making her jump and look around in fear. It's not often that she leaves the house unaccompanied, and being by herself makes her feel vulnerable. The noise happens again. She takes a couple of steps back, considering just turning and going home.

Her eyes are for some reason drawn to the dark alley between the huge buildings, where movement keeps her drawn further and further in. At first, it looks like some sort of _attack_, two people almost struggling against the wall. Her feet carry her closer; she really hopes that she won't regret this. The closer she gets, the more the shapes come into focus, until eventually she realizes that it's not two strangers; it's Kurt and Blaine.

She suppresses the gasp in her throat at the sight of them, lips locked in battle. Kurt runs a hand through Blaine's now messed hair, eyes closed and mouth opening slightly as the kiss continues. He makes small noises of appreciation, each moan making Rachel's eyes bulge wider and wider. Blaine grunts, gripping onto Kurt like he's afraid he'll let go, mouth suddenly tearing itself from his swollen lips and trailing along his pale, soft neck.

Rachel, after making sure that she won't faint from the utter shock, turns and hurries back to the house. She slams the door closed behind her, leaning against it and staring straight ahead, breathing heavily.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	5. V

**Thank you to all you wonderful people for reviewing my story! Or simply just reading it :) It means a lot.**

**Someone asked what era it's set in, and that would be the 1940s. Hopefully that clears up any confusion.**

**As usual, thank you to the amazing Lucy for beta'ing this fic. You're klamazing ;)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

One week.

A _whole_ week.

It seems like a lifetime, not seven measly days, that she'd seen the kiss; the kiss that left her feeling completely confused and at a loss of what to do. That kiss – it shouldn't have happened, not between the both of them. And they looked pretty, uh, _experienced_ too, which means that it's happened before. The mass of uncertainty and worry that comes with her thoughts make her feel sick, dizzy, and she just wants to forget that it ever happened.

She eyes the door to the changing room, where Kurt and Blaine are now. What if… what if they're kissing again? Rachel closes her eyes slowly, the onset of a headache making her frown. This isn't right, is it? He shouldn't be kissing Kurt, another _man_. He should… be kissing someone like Quinn, as much as it pains her to say so. Men and woman are supposed that be together; that's the way it's always been.

Rachel's frown persists as her unease sinks further. She just doesn't know what to do, what to say, and it's eating her up inside. If she doesn't do something soon, she's surely going to burst! Her stomach twists this way and that just thinking about telling someone – would Blaine get in trouble? Is what he and Kurt had done _wrong_?

Her eyes squint open when she hears the door open, and Kurt leaves, hair mussed and face slightly flustered. Her stomach tightens even more. She jumps to her feet, a little unsteadily, and hurries past a quickly confused Kurt to bound into the changing room. Blaine is decent, _thankfully_, but still looks miffed that she just barged in.

"Yes Rachel?" he questions with a bit annoyance; he needs to get ready for the fight, and he can't do that with her lingering around him.

She almost stops herself, her mind shouting at her to keep her mouth glued close, but she just _can't_. "I saw you."

Blaine looks to her properly now, all his attention on his sister. "What?"

She takes a step closer, her whole body shaking with nerves, and she can barely look him in the eye. With a deep, shuddery breath, she speaks once more. "You and Kurt, I saw you…" She whispers the next part, "_kissing_." And then, she finally looks up.

In that moment, she sees Blaine's world shattering around him.

"How did – we were…" His face scrunches up, a hand rising to his mouth in shock. It's not often that he's at a loss of words.

So she speaks for him, her heart pounding as she does. "I was just trying to give him his broach back. I-I didn't know that you were…" She gulps, eyes wide, "I didn't mean to! It just happened, and I…" Once more, she's at a loss of words, shaking her head slowly to show that to her brother. Well, what is she _supposed_ to say? She fears that saying the wrong thing will upset Blaine and make him close up, but she doesn't want that; she wants him to _trust_ her.

Staring into the eyes of Blaine, she wonders whether that's even possible. He looks like a trapped animal, a savage fear tearing through his entire body – she feels terrible for being the one to cause it.

"Rachel," he says carefully, slowly, all the while still trying to assess the mess that he's in. Blaine starts to stand, his trembling hands the only thing that she can concentrate on. He looks as though he could throw up any second. "It's not what… I – "

"But you were _kissing_ him."

"I – oh God." He drops his face in his hands, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

She quickly takes a step forward, without thinking, and finds herself able to hear sobs coming from Blaine. Doing a double take, her eyes bulge further. He's sobbing, actually, _really_ sobbing, all because of what she'd told him. And yes, now is probably not the best time, with the chance of _anyone_ walking in on their taboo talk, but Rachel isn't so good with her timing lately.

"We shouldn't have been there. I told him no, but then we – we just couldn't help ourselves," he mumbles into his hands, and Rachel moves to sit beside him, a consoling hand on his shoulder. He stops shaking, if only for a moment, and stares up into her big, confused eyes. "I love him Rachel."

Taking in a sharp breath, she says, "you… _love_ him?" Her forehead creases together, "I don't understand. You shouldn't… I mean, Quinn and -"

He interrupts her, though she's glad that he stops her before she begins to ramble, as she does when she's unsure of herself. "I can't help but love him. He's," he shrugs, for the first time managing to smile, like he found his light in the darkness, "he's _Kurt_."

"But if Papa knew –"

The smile quickly drops.

"You can't tell him Rachel, you can't! Oh, please! Just never, _ever_ mention this to him." He grasps firmly hold of her hands, squeezing them in his, "please, please." He openly begs her. "He doesn't understand. He can't understand." The desperation in his voice tears through her, leaving her chest tight, an almost sick like feeling taking over her body.

Tears are still brimming in his eyes, the same dread lingering in the deep brown of them. She's never seen her brother so scared.

"Blaine, I wouldn't…" She returns the strength of his grasp, holding his hands in return.

"He'll take me away from Kurt! I can't… I love him so much. _Please_." The hot tears roll down his cheeks in abundant amounts, and she tries to hold her own in. Before she knows it, her arms are wrapping around Blaine's body, pulling him as close to her as possible in a tight embrace. He sobs against his shoulder, mumbling things that she can barely understand, but Kurt's name is mentioned a lot.

She pities him, she really does; having to hide to his love… it just seems unimaginable.

"Blaine," she rubs his back soothingly, "I'm not going to tell anyone, I promise." Scrunching her eyes shut, she tightens the hug.

He pulls back, puffy, red eyes watery with tears. "Rachel – "

"Not a single soul." She tells him, face serious. It seems that he finally believes her, the tension releasing from his small body, but he still remains in her arms.

"Thank you," he whispers, settling his head against her shoulder.

As the door swings open, the pair jump in one another's embrace, eyes trained to the doorway, where Finn looms. He takes one long look at Blaine and sighs, "are you ready yet? Schuester wants to start the fight soon, and it's not gonna look good if you're late." She notices that, briefly, he seems worried about the obvious tear tracks on their cheeks, and their still watery eyes, but he brushes that concern away to focus more on the fight.

Dread fills her entire being. Ever since the beginning of all this, the thought of her brother fighting someone had made her uneasy, and it still does. He's not as well built as the others she's seen, or as tall. It's extremely worrying, knowing that he's already at a disadvantage because of that, and then his inexperience in this sport comes into play – she _wants_ to stop him, to tell him that it's a stupid idea, but it'll be no use. Blaine is just as stubborn as her.

He's on his legs now, legs which are shaking ever so slightly, but he then nods at Finn, his face suddenly full of determination.

"Let's go," he announces, taking the gloves up from the bench and slipping his hands into them, hitting them together a couple of times as his adrenaline begins to surge through his body. He turns to Rachel, who smiles back at him tentatively, making it known that everything is okay between them, or okay as it can be for now. He smiles too.

Embracing him quickly, she kisses his cheek, "good luck Blaine. I believe in you."

The man nods, before softly adding, "you stay and watch with Kurt. Don't leave his side." They linger in the hug for a moment, until he notices Finn motioning at him to hurry up, a roll of his eyes accompanying his annoyed face.

In the end, he practically pulls them apart. "Enough with the sappy hugs and cries!" He takes hold of Blaine's upper arm, not realizing that his other arm is pushing gently on the small of Rachel's back. She, on the other hand, drops her face to hide the mad blush that appears.

Soon enough they find themselves around the boxing ring again, Rachel vividly remembering this as the first place she'd ever seen Finn, and how she would have never done that if she hadn't wandered off. Oh, how things would be different. She finds Kurt, easy to see in the sea of burly men, and she slips her arm through his, practically able to feel the nerves radiating off of him.

"Kurt?" she questions.

"I'm fine," Kurt insists, but she doesn't believe him, sending a look his way, "fine! I'm well, I'm worried about Blaine. I don't want him to get hurt…"

She nods in understanding, supporting the notion; she won't able to bear it if he's harmed too much, but she fears that that'll be the case. And Kurt, he has a reason to be just as worried as her. He and Blaine are… well, they're involved – _in love_, Blaine had said – and it's only natural for Kurt to be anxious. She frowns. In love. It's so strange to think, seeing as a week before she'd had no idea, but through her obliviousness, they'd grown close, grown with their souls bonded as one, much as a man and a woman would.

Even though it's still confusing, or maybe more unfamiliar to her, she can now see the love between the pair, and surely there can't be anything _wrong_ about that.

He hand finds Kurt's, "I'm sure he'll be fine." She nods, more to herself, to support her comment, taking a deep, calming breath as her brother appears in the ring, now sans shirt, hopping nervously on his feet. There's already a thin sweat on his forehead, eyes unusually dark as they stare ahead. Ear splitting roars make her move closer to Kurt, and the main reason for their appearance is made clear when Blaine's opponent steps into the ring.

It's the same man that she'd seen Finn with, only now he looks more menacing, like he wouldn't give a second thought about hurting Blaine in order to win the fight. The very thought gives her shivers, the hairs in the back of her neck attentively on stand.

Her eyes cross the room, to where an angry looking Finn stands, talking to the owner. He's almost red in the face, frustration brewing over, and her curiosity grows: a few moments ago, when with them, he'd been relatively calm and nice enough, for _Finn_ anyway, but apparently that's not the case. She feels something tug at her chest, telling her to go over and see what's wrong, yet she can't move from Kurt's side, and Blaine had specifically told her to stay with her friend. So instead, she settles for staring longingly toward the man who can steal her attention in the blink of an eye.

The argument grows, hands thrown around in exasperation, eyes rolled, and a dangerous glare stuck to Finn's face. She would certainly not be happy to be on the receiving end of it.

She's not surprised when Finn just walks away, jaw locked, before he jumps into the ring with Blaine, still eyeing his competitor. Leaning down, he clamps his large hands on Blaine's comparatively small shoulders and then whispers something into his ear. Blaine appears slightly daunted, though tries his best to hide it. It's clear that their conversation prior is still affecting him, and guilt trickles through her body. Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned anything at all, then Blaine wouldn't be worried, and _she_ wouldn't have to worry about Blaine worrying. No, that's stupid – there's no way that she could have lasted another mere day holding in her secret.

And at least Blaine knows that she knows, and maybe having a little less weight on his shoulders about hiding this will be good for him – Kurt too. She can't even begin to imagine how difficult it must be, having no experiences of the sort.

Gaze glued to Blaine, she barely notices when Finn pats him on the shoulder and slips out, disappearing rather quickly for someone with his height and stature. And then, the long awaited ring of the bell sounds in her ears, making her heart leap in her chest.

It begins.

Blaine, she's proud to say, makes a confident swing at the guy first, just like Finn had taught him. Fast, well aimed and sharp. Unfortunately, his opponent is just as fast, even more so well aimed, and he ducks out of the way of the punch like lightening, just in time to counteract with a throw of his own, fist smashing against Blaine. She can practically hear the impact, wincing in an instant as she considers how painful it must be.

He bounces back quickly, eagerly, this time looking for payback for that hit. He dodges a couple, eyes concentrating so hard, like he can't see anything else in the room. Kurt is enthralled with the fight, hands placed over his mouth as he watches intently, having eyes for no one but Blaine. He only turns away when Blaine gets hit, which is worryingly becoming a lot. She lets out a tiny gasp at the sight of angry, red blood trickling from his lower lip. This is a bad idea; she shouldn't be letting him do this. She should tell Papa right away, and he'll stop Blaine from hurting himself, so she can put her worrying to rest for a while.

The noise around her is overpowering, the crowd savage and scary, like _wild animals_. They're all enjoying this, with sick, twisted smiles on their faces, and words of encouragement to Blaine's opponent. Never Blaine – he's the newbie. They _want_ him to lose, to get beaten to a pulp on his first fight. It makes her stomach churn uneasily.

He finally gets a good throw at the other guy, knocking him stumbling backwards, shaking his head, but he just dives right back in, a new burst of energy aimed toward Blaine. She closes her eyes, unable to watch as he's further bruised and battered, unsteadily standing on his feet.

She spots Finn again, standing darkly in the corner. He looks upset, still, and she wonders why he'd been so angry toward the owner, but there's no point in trying to figure it out. He's remained secretive this past week, which doesn't really surprise her – and honestly, she'd been more preoccupied fretting over the whole Blaine situation to notice _too_ much – but she notices that there are sometimes little gaps in his armor. He slips up, acting almost _human_; with real emotions. And _that_ Finn, she likes him.

Sometimes it seems like he likes her too, since he doesn't tell her to shut up_ straight away_ anymore, and she could swear that, on occasions, it seems like he's even _enjoying_ her little tales. Maybe that's why he tells her to stop talking – so that she doesn't know that; since he has a great aversion to revealing anything but annoyance and anger in front of her. And he hasn't once told her to leave, like on the first week, so on some level he must be growing accustom to her presence, which, seeing as she's fascinated by him, and all his mysterious ways, is good.

But right now, knowing that Blaine is getting worse and worse by the minute, she pushes those thoughts from her mind, hurrying from Kurt's side, to push through the crowd and stand before Finn.

He stares into her pleading eyes, and then says, "I can't help him, you know that. This is _his_ fight. I gave him all the help I could," he looks genuinely sorry, "but it isn't enough, not if he's facing Puck." Cursing under his breath, he adds, "Schuester must have chosen him on purpose, to get rid of Blaine." Finn grits his teeth, eyes moving from Rachel to the carnage in the ring and then back again. She wants to turn, to see what's going on, but having to see Blaine thrown around in there is killing her already.

"Then you have to stop the fight," she says desperately.

Finn shakes his head, gaze moving to the ground, so he doesn't have to look her in the eye as he says, "I can't."

She steps forward, closing the gap between them. "Why can't you?" she demands to know, "you can't expect me to just stand here while my brother – "

"He made his choice. I didn't make him get in that ring; _he_ did. It's every man for himself out there. I've done all I can."

"So you're just going to throw him to the lions? I thought that you cared about him, about helping him and making him better – isn't that why you started training him?"

"I have my reasons."

Standing stiffly, he dares a glance at the fight again and this time, so does Rachel. She observes in horror as Blaine, bloodied and worn, puts every ounce of energy remaining in his body through a punch aimed at Puck's cheek. The moment is tense, air thick, and she reaches out for the nearest thing to her, that being Finn's hand. With a vice like grip, she holds on, squeezing it while her eyes are stuck to the scene before her. Blaine's fist collides with Puck's nose, causing the taller man to growl out in pain, gloved hands moving up to his now red, and bloody, nose.

The moment of triumph for Blaine is short lived as the response is a strong hit against his cheek, the force of it knocking him off his feet. She gasps loudly, calling out his name, but he doesn't move. Her heart plummets.

Without realizing, she's tugging Finn nearer to the ring, relieved to see that Kurt had the same idea and joins them there too. Finn lets go of her hand – and she instantly tries to forget how empty it feels without his in hers – and climbs inside, kneeling down beside Blaine. A look of sadness washes over his face as he takes in the boy's appearance; it almost looks like he's blaming himself.

He looks up, eyes meeting with hers, and then instantly tears away, afraid of letting any more emotion show through.

Kurt takes hold of her hand, squeezing tightly while he remains focused on Blaine, small tears brimming in his eyes. "Please tell me that he's going to be okay," he manages out.

"He's going to be sore," Finn observes bleakly, "and there'll be a lot of bruising, but I don't think there's any permanent damage." Both she and Kurt simultaneously breathe a sigh of relief, but in the back of her mind she's debating how on earth Blaine's going to hide this from Papa.

In one quick motion, Finn easily picks up Blaine and throws him over his shoulder. She feels her blood boil at the sound of men _laughing_ at Blaine, and his misfortunes. How dare they! If only they knew how much this meant to him and how much he's willing to do in order to achieve it. They navigate through the crowd, Kurt leading them through a set of doors, holding it open as he gazes up to Blaine.

Now by themselves, she feels more comfortable, but seeing Blaine like this upsets her, the urge to cry overwhelming as Finn places him on the bench. "Get me some water," he says to Kurt, who rushes to do so, wanting to help in any way that he can. He comes back with a glass full, waiting with baited breath for Finn to do something. It's a little shocking when he just throws the water straight over Blaine, but it startles him awake, and he shoots up, peering around the room with confusion. "I – what happened? The fight – "

Finn pushes him down gently, "it's over. You… you got a pretty nasty hit."

"I…" Blaine starts, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. His face, beneath all the blood and developing bruises, twists with sadness and disappointment, "I lost?"

The silence that follows says it all. Blaine sits, this time without Finn insisting that that he lies down again, and runs a hand over his mouth, wincing at the sharp pain that it brings. She watches helplessly as a few tears fall, the devastation of losing setting in.

"Considering it was Puck, you held up pretty well," Finn tries, but the attempt it useless. He still lost, and it's going to plague him.

She hates seeing her brother so sad, so broken, like he's given up. It's not the strong, confident Blaine that she knows – _he's_ hiding somewhere deep within his now battered body. If she stays in here any longer, she's going to cry, and she _really_ doesn't want to.

When she feels the tears threatening to fall, she wipes at her eyes. "I'll just," she starts, knowing that it's best to take a few moments by herself, "I'll be right back." And with that she slips from the room hastily.

It's like a breath of fresh air when she's by herself. Wrapping her arms around herself, she slowly paces the floor, trying to put her anxiety to the side. _Blaine is fine_, she tells herself, or as fine as he can be considering the circumstances. But, she realizes, he won't be able to train here anymore, now that he's lost his first fight. She understands his pain over that fact, knowing that one of the things he loves will be snatched away from him so harshly, and she worries that he'll close off, too angry at the world – and himself – for letting this happen.

Tears fall without her noticing. She just continues pacing, thinking, and trying to tell herself that Blaine will be okay.

She's startled when a hand falls on her shoulder, and she yelps, jumping away from it, only to turn and find Finn gazing at her. "You frightened me," she says slowly, hand over her thumping heart.

"Sorry," he mumbles, hesitating for a moment, "you okay?"

Rachel bites her lower lip, unsure of how to respond. It's one of the first times every that Finn has genuinely shown concern for her feelings. Maybe he's feeling guilty about Blaine, and this is a way to make himself less so, by trying to help someone else. Or, she tells herself, maybe he _does_ care. The latter is a bit more out there, but Rachel tries to persuade herself that it's true.

And maybe she needs to talk to someone herself. The night has been dramatic and long, and she's been up and down with her emotions. Even now, she can seem to stop her tears. "Blaine… -"

"He's okay," he nods, "he's in good hands. I think that's all he needs right now; losing your first fight is hard." His large eyes rise to meet her, and she feels a pang in her heart at the sight of them. He looks just as upset as she does.

They fall into silence. She hates every second of it, able to feel Finn's gaze burning her face. She folds her arms more tightly around her chest and sighs, hating the awkwardness.

It won't be like that in the room with Kurt and Blaine – she has half a mind to go back in there, just to escape this, but they're probably wanting some alone time to… to… do _that_. Not that's she's quite sure what that is, other than kissing and such. There's still so much for her to learn, so much that she doesn't understand, but she can never dislike Blaine, or Kurt, for their love with one another. Love just happens, and you get no choice; or so she's told.

Maybe one day, when she's more experienced, all these things will make sense. She lives a sheltered life, she admits it, and she can't help but think that she's missing out on, well, _living_, because of the way her Papa treats her. Like she's a child rather than a young woman.

If she hadn't been so protected, maybe the whole Kurt and Blaine debacle wouldn't have come as such a shock and still, even now, there's still much trepidation about the whole thing. She just doesn't know _anything_ about it. She should change that.

Her eyes finally move to Finn, finding that his gaze hadn't faltered. She blushes, only for a moment, and says, "can I ask you something, hypothetically?"

His brows knot, but he otherwise nods.

Finn is older, he's experienced, and he's bound to know a _lot_ more than she does. And for once he's acting kindly toward her, so she may as well utilize that to help get her thoughts cleared.

"Okay, so _hypothetically_, say two men were together… together in the way," she pauses, "in the way that a man and woman should be. Is that… is that wrong?" She frowns, making her uncertainty known.

The man sighs, thinking it through in his head. For a moment, he gives a glance in the direction of the door where he'd just walked through, with Kurt and Blaine on the other side, and he has a feeling that he knows exactly why she's asking. "Well, _hypothetically_, I think that love – it can happen to anybody. And, you know, it comes in all shapes and sizes. It can't be contained." He hesitates, gaze ripping from hers, and she blinks, pulled from her momentary trance, "and some people, some _guys_, they love other guys. When you've been in love… you know that it isn't _ever_ wrong."

She gulps slowly. "Have you… were you in love?" She can't stop herself from asking, but at the same time she's not sure if she wants to know the answer.

"Once." It's barely a whisper.

Her heart feels heavy, tight, and she's glad that he can't see that.

After the silence becomes too much, he carries on, turned to the side as not to see her reaction to what he'd said. "So anyway, it can't be wrong. It's _love_. On the other hand, forcing two people who clearly care for each other apart seems like the _truly_ wrong option." His last words are almost bitter, mouth twisted tightly. But he calms quickly, looking to her, "do you understand?"

"I think so."

He offers a tiny smile, "good. I think some people don't like it, because they're afraid of it. I mean, it's something different. Something that they have no control over. That's gotta scare some types of people." Rachel nods in agreement, instantly thinking of her Papa, and it's clear why Blaine doesn't want him to know. Finn moves nearer to her, his hand on her arm as he leans down and whispers, "and between you and me, I think that Kurt and Blaine love each other a lot, and it's that big type of love that scares people who haven't seen it before."

Her mouth falls open, "how did you… I didn't." She panics. Blaine explicitly told her not to tell anyone and somehow Finn knows!

One look at her wide eyes and pale face, and his smile grows, "don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"But _how_ do you know?"

He doesn't speak; instead he starts to lead her back to the room where Kurt and Blaine are, opening the door slowly. Inside, Kurt is lovingly tending to the wounds on her brother, their faces inches apart as he cleans his cut lip. Their eyes are locked together in an intense gaze, shining with happiness, and Blaine's hands rest neatly on Blaine's lap, Kurt's free hand wrapped tightly around them.

Finn looks down to her, as if answering her question with their obvious displays of affection. But, at the sight of Finn, their hands separate, Kurt pulling back slightly.

"Hey," she says softly as she goes to sit beside them, "how're you feeling?"

"Better than I look," he tells her, grimacing as Kurt accidentally hits a sore part. She frowns, gingerly lifting her hands up to rub his shoulder gently in an effort to make him feel better. Eyes moving to the side, she catches Finn staring at her briefly, but his comment about being in love haunts her mind.

* * *

**Hmm, I wonder what happened with Finn...**

**Please review :)**


	6. VI

**So, I pretty much love you all for being so amazing with your reviews! It makes me ridiculously happy to read through them all :)**

**Also, a lot of people have been asking about how old Finn is in this. Don't worry. You'll find out soon.**

**Thank you to my perfect beta, Lucy. You should read some of her fics. They're amazing!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The walk home is tiresome and cold, and also stone silent.

It wouldn't be if it were just the three of them, but for some reason beyond her Finn insisted upon escorting them back. Blaine is unsteadily held between him and Kurt. At first, he'd tried to walk by himself, but the evening soon caught up with him, and he'd slipped against Kurt, head lulling into the man's neck. Finn had quickly swooped in, supporting his other side, all the while she stays ahead and remains quiet.

Occasionally she'll turn her head and peer – not as subtly as she thinks – at them, or more at _Finn_. Why is he with them? Is he just feeling guilty that Blaine is so hurt and this is his way of making up for it? She squints her eyes while she gazes back; he does look quite down, and he doesn't even seem to have the energy to send any remarks her way… Rachel frowns herself, knowing logically that it must be because of Blaine's loss, and he's just trying to help her brother, but she can't help thinking that he's there with them for _something else._

Maybe she's overthinking things.

She clutches her thin coat around her body a bit more tightly, the cold nipping at her entire body. Every time she breathes, she can see the cloud of her breath before her. She hears the footsteps behind her speed up, jumping when she feels something thrown over her shoulders – the material is hard and scratchy, yet at the same time wrapping her in warmth. The hands which place it on her linger for a few moments, and she finds herself staring at them. They're large, rough, and the only person they belong to could be Finn.

Her gaze following up the arm, she's suddenly staring into his eyes, a whole new warmth entering her body. Finn stares right back, eyes slightly wide like he's questioning his own actions. As fast as lightening, he moves to return to Blaine, though isn't as fast as her hand which shoots out and grasps onto his wrist, gently slowing his retreat. "Thank you," her voice comes out as a whisper, a wide smile growing on her lips.

Finn simply nods his head. Facing forward again, she tugs the jacket higher on her shoulders, the scent of it rising into her nose. It's like _Finn_ is embracing her rather than a thin piece of material and, to her complete shock, she likes that. _He's been in love,_ she reminds herself, sadly. Naturally the more optimistic part of her mind interrupts, recounting that he'd said he _had_ been in love, which means he no longer is. That makes her feel at least a bit better.

"Is that Mr Fabray?" Blaine suddenly squeaks out. She spins around in an instant, her eyes moving to follow Blaine's gaze, where it is in fact Mr Fabray walking down the street, walking _right toward them. _"We can't let him see us!"

She's nodding her agreement as they start to look for someplace to hide, Kurt included. He shouldn't be in this part of town either, and their parents finding out would surely lead to dire consequences.

"Hey, what's so bad abou – "

Finn never gets to finish before Kurt shoves him, with strength Rachel never knew he had, into a small alcove between two buildings. Seeing as she's in front of Finn, a dominoes effect ensues, and he hurtles into her, pushing her up against the wall, Finn and Blaine sandwiched between them, and Kurt bringing up the rear. All is deadly silent as they remain in that spot, packed together like tinned sardines.

Twisting her head, she prepares to scold Kurt for being so forceful and no doubt ruining her dress by making her go against the grimy wall, but then Finn shushes her harshly in her ear, and she sinks back against the cold brick. If she so much as moves half an inch backwards, she's fully pressed against Finn's hard, warm chest, and she thinks she'd enjoy that a little _too much_. What would her Papa think if he could hear her now? Thinking about such things with an older man. A deep flush burns at her cheeks, and she just hopes that she can pass it for the cold rather than shame.

"Well, _this_ is a tight fit," Finn groans when he's sure that Mr Fabray has walked past, and they haven't been discovered, not that _he_ needed to hide, but he didn't exactly have a choice before being shoved into the alcove.

Pushed up against Rachel's back, neither he nor Rachel sees Kurt cock his head to the side, a thoughtful expression poised on his face, "eh, I've seen tighter." Nor do they see the way Blaine's eyes bulge, and his face grow hot in embarrassment.

They do, however, hear him hiss, "Kurt!" loudly.

"Erm…" Finn starts awkwardly, wondering how to follow on from _that_.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to. Rachel takes this as the perfect moment to speak. "Finn, your belt buckle is poking me." She wiggles herself in the tiny space available.

He isn't wearing a belt today.

She wiggles again. _Not_ helping.

Behind him, Blaine clears his throat, sending obvious glares at the man in front of him, "I think it's safe to get out now… Rachel, you get out first." She starts to slowly slip herself from between the wall and Finn. "Quickly," he insists, glad when she's free, and not near Finn or his… Blaine shakes his head, the free space allowing him, Finn and Kurt to all move more freely, and they too take themselves back out onto the street.

He takes a look at Rachel, her once spotless cream dress now not so clean. A grimace washes over his lips. How are they supposed to explain _that_ to Father? Or his developing bruises and the cuts? He's sure that they're in for a long night.

They start to walk again, before he realizes that Rachel isn't moving. Turning, he finds her staring in the direction that Mr Fabray had turned to, and his thick brows dip together. "Rachel?" He shrugs off Kurt and Finn's support, before walking up to his sister, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

She looks almost worried, her forehead creased, and those large brown eyes filled with thought. "Why is Mr Fabray here? He doesn't work in this side of the city…"

That's true, and as he thinks about it, whenever he talks about this area, it's always with distaste. So why would he possibly want to come here? Peering down at Rachel, he tries to ease the worry from her, "he's probably just meeting with somebody. You know how he and Father have many business friends, from all around the city. It's important to have the right connections." He chants what his Father often tells him, before gently patting her shoulder, "come on, we need to get home. You're freezing, and it's already late." Which is another thing to explain to Father…

Rachel allows him to lead her forward again, the two catching up with Finn and Kurt, who are looking on with confusion in their eyes. He merely shakes his head at them to say that it's nothing to worry about, and keeps Rachel close to his side. She smiles gently, leaning against him and linking arms with him. Finn, now without a job to do, shoves his hands into his pockets and walks beside her, completely silent.

Slowly, their surroundings morph into their neighborhood, the sight of the familiar buildings bringing comfort to the three, but leaves Finn tensing up with each step he takes, looking completely out of place.

"So this is how the other half lives," he comments, eyes gazing up at the large, well-kept buildings, and then back to them. She decides that he looks sad above everything else, and her curiosity demands that she find out why. Rachel shakes her head to herself; she doesn't know if she's ready to learn anything else about him that night.

Upon seeing her shake her head, at nothing in particular, he raises an eyebrow in question, regarding her curiously. She soon moves her gaze elsewhere.

They reach their house, the lights of the ground floor still flooding the street, and they slowly begin to walk up to the front door. She can practically feel the nerves coming from Blaine and, in the bright lights of their home; his injuries aren't exactly going to be easy to hide.

She realizes that _Finn_ had followed them up, looking like he's desperate to speak. She shares a look with Blaine.

"Yes Finn?" he questions.

"Look," he scuffs the floor with his foot, "I'm real sorry about the fight. You shouldn't have been put with Puck. It was completely unfair – he's been doing this for _years_." He sighs loudly, running a hand through his messy hair, "and I wish that there was something I could do about it, but a deal's a deal, you know? And Will said you had two weeks… I've done all I can."

At this, Rachel frowns deeply, glaring at Finn. She's still slightly angry at him for letting Blaine start the fight in the first place; knowing full well that doing so would only end up in her brother being hurt like he is. Despite Blaine being so injured, she can see the disappointment in his eyes at not being able to train anymore. While she's relieved, she knows that he's going to need a few days to grieve over the loss of this, and she'll try her best to allow him that.

Finn reaches forward, clamping a heavy hand on Blaine's shoulder, causing the boy to stare up at him again. "You're good Blaine. And, you know, it might not have worked out this time, but don't give up, okay?" He gives him a genuine smile, "you have talent, kid."

Blaine nods, and she watches how he reaches out to pull a surprised Finn into a hug, the older man patting his back a few times. "Thank you Finn," he says, "you've taught me a lot."

Still smiling, he nods his own head.

Suddenly the front door bursts open, the angered face of their Father the first thing that they see. His face is red, eyes dark as they zone in on his children and the mess that they're in - it's like he almost doesn't see Kurt and Finn behind them. "Do you know what time it is? You've been gone for hours! And nobody knew where you were! Now you come back, looking like this. You two better have a good explanation," he snarls, before realizing that he's making a scene, "get inside, the both of you. And Mr Hummel, you too. Although I'm still yet to know as to _why_ you're here, when you should be at home."

Going to usher his children into the house, he finds himself face to face with Finn, who tops his height by a good few inches, and is much more built than he is. For the first time in her life, Rachel sees her Papa looking intimidated.

He turns back to them, looking just about ready to explode, "and who is _this_?"

"Well, we – I, Father, we didn't…" Blaine starts babbling, all excuses quickly lost in his throat, and the terrifying reality of having to tell his Father what he's really been doing is suddenly looming closer. He sighs, his heart pounding as he prepares to tell the truth and no doubt get in the most trouble he's ever been in, not only for pursuing boxing, sneaking off and lying, but for taking Rachel too. He's sure that his Father would have a heart attack if he knew exactly where Blaine has taken his innocent, helpless only daughter.

Closing his eyes, he opens his mouth to speak.

"_We were mugged!_"

Rachel's shrill outburst causes the whole room to fall into silence, everyone looking expectantly to her, Blaine even opening his eyes to stare at his sister in shock.

Rather than say anything, she promptly bursts into tears. Any good actress should be able to cry on demand, and Rachel had perfected that art at the tender age of six. Now, feeling all eyes on her, she plays it up, throwing herself into her Papa's arms, and mumbling about how scared she was. He, on the other hand, seems more concerned about the dirt from her dress getting on him, and he gently holds her away from him, "why don't you go and get changed, and calm down while I talk to your brother?"

She slowly nods, wiping at her red and puffy eyes. "Oh, and Papa? Finn helped us."

"Finn?" he questions, eyes moving over to Finn, who is stood awkwardly as he watches the exchange. Under the glowering eyes of her Papa, he tenses again.

"Yes, Blaine was trying to protect me, but they hurt him, and I didn't know what to do…" She speaks, making herself sound more and more distraught with each word, "but then Finn came, and he saved us. If he weren't there…" Trailing off, her shakes her head sadly.

Her Papa eyes Finn slowly, before insisting that she go change again and ushering the others into the living room. She hovers around the staircase, trying to hear what's being said. Rachel should've known that, as usual, her Papa would brush her away the minute the real discussion started, and she feels herself pout, wishing that she could play a more important role in it all. She is the one who just – wonderfully, may she add – conjured a lie to get them out of trouble, and now she's been sent to her room. With a sigh, she begins up the stairs and down the hall to her room. As she sits herself on the bed, the day is finally catching up on her, and she yawns tiredly, glancing at the clock to see that it's almost nine. She shouldn't be so tired this early, but perhaps all the distress from the fight wore her out, not to mention the amount of sleep she's been losing staying up all night considering the Kurt/Blaine dilemma, though that isn't such a dilemma anymore.

Her hands go to remove her dress, before she feels the jacket that Finn had given her still around her shoulders. Rachel suddenly smiles, gently shrugging it off and holding it in her arms. When she first met Finn – and remembering how rude he'd been to her – she never would have expected such a gentleman like move from him, but she likes to be surprised.

Rachel neatly folds the jacket, reminding herself to give it to Finn before he leaves, and she goes to get changed.

Almost on autopilot, she gets into a nightgown, frowning at her ruined dress from that day. With her slippers on, she grabs the dress and heads to take it to the laundry room, placing it first on the pile of things to be washed tomorrow.

Just as she's walking back through the foyer, she sees her Papa stepping out of the living room, Finn first in tow, followed by Blaine and Kurt. Blaine's looking paler now, more exhausted, and she knows that he must just want to crawl back into bed.

"Are you sure you don't want to get the police involved, Blaine?" Papa furrows his brows together, making it clear that he doesn't understand his son's choice.

"There's no point Father. We could hardly see what they looked like. Nothing was stolen, and we're all fine."

He frowns, "they beat you – " He cuts himself short when he notices her lingering by the stairs again. "Rachel," he calls out sternly. She turns to look at him, slightly ashamed at being caught eavesdropping, before she looks to the ground.

"Sorry Papa," she says without delay when he says her name again, "I couldn't help but overhear… But I think Blaine is right." There's no point in calling the police to look for muggers when there are in fact no muggers to be searched for. She begins to walk toward them - feeling decisively exposed in just her nightgown – and she does her best to look just at her Father. Not at Finn, definitely not at him, despite the fact that she can feel his eyes on her.

Papa sighs, "Rachel, this is an important matter between your brother and I. It's – "

"But – "

She doesn't get very far.

"You wouldn't understand," he says, patience wearing thin. Rachel resists the urge to roll her eyes, and instead settles on moving her gaze to the floor, as she so often does when he speaks to her like this. Papa leans down, kissing her forehead softly, "now goodnight, Rachel."

"Goodnight Papa," she replies, dejectedly. Forcing a small smile on her face, she repeats the same thing with Kurt and Blaine, kissing each on the cheek. When she ends up looking at Finn, she pauses for a moment, craning her neck to stare up at him, and finding him staring straight back down, eyes intent on her.

She finally manages a real smile, "goodnight Finn, and… thank you, for everything." If this is the last time she'll see him, she should make it known that she's at least grateful for him having aided Blaine learn some more about his passion, if only a little bit, when no one else would. Without thinking, she's on her tiptoes, and her lips gently brush over his cheek. She half expects him to tense under her touch, but she feels him relax, and she wonders why that is.

When pulls away, finally given the chance to look into his eyes, and to see exactly what reaction it'd caused, she finds him smiling back at her, eyes shining brightly at her. "Goodnight," he whispers back. For a moment, she allows herself to get lost in his eyes, which for once show happiness.

Turning, she finds her Papa's eyes on her, his not looking as happy as Finn's had been, and he frowns down at her. He doesn't approve of seeing such things, she knows. Finn is completely working class – it's pretty obvious – and to her Papa, the thought of working class and upper class mixing is not one which is welcomed. She's surprised that he even let Finn stay in their home for this long, but she supposes he must have needed him there to get the full story of what had happened to them, or what they're telling him anyway.

She knows she should regret kissing him there, especially in front of Papa, but she doesn't. Not one bit. On the contrary, it felt _right_. It felt good, and she just can't regret feeling that way.

With her head bowed, she slowly starts to make her way up the stairs once more, aware of them proceeding to talk without her. She suddenly feels empty as she thinks that that's the last time she's going to see Finn. In a more sombre mood, she drops to the bed, her hair fanning out over the pillow, and she stares at the ceiling. Beginning to dwell over the day, she wonders how Blaine is going to be tomorrow, and the day after. She doesn't want to see him sad – _of course_ – but she has a feeling that he's going to be a little blue, even if for only a little while.

Her eyelids become heavier and heavier as her thoughts slow, and eventually, she falls asleep.

* * *

As suspected, Blaine isn't his usual self for the following few days. He sits and thinks a lot, in the more quiet rooms, and he's more often than not wearing a frown. Kurt sits with him, holds his hand when he thinks no one's looking, and she's glad that he's there, to offer Blaine comfort in a terrible time like this.

Papa calls a doctor to the house, to examine Blaine, but he's got nothing more than a few good bruises, and a swollen eye. She hates to see the angry bruises, all reminders of the fight, the club, and of _Finn_, who she tries not to miss, but it's fruitless to do so. She knows it's silly, considering the way he'd treated her at first, and how he continued to offer nothing more than a constant headache and much unwanted confusion, yet his presence always made her feel… _something_, something that she can't quite place; that she's never experienced before. But she knows that it was – _is_ – strong. And, more than anything else, that she misses it so, so much.

Time passes, and Blaine gets happier. He mentions the club less, he smiles more; and it's as if the whole thing never happened, like it was all one big dream, especially once all his injuries heal and he looks like Blaine again.

It's almost as if they can forget. But the empty feeling inside her won't _let_ her forget.

Soon enough, Blaine's twentieth birthday sneaks up on them.

She wakes bright and early, throwing herself out of bed with unrivalled eagerness. Outside, a hazy orange is appearing through the dark blue, bringing morning with it. Rachel smiles, padding across the cold floor to her dresser, where the neatly wrapped present is staring back at her. After slipping her dressing gown on, she takes hold of it carefully, and opens her door, peeking her head out to see if anybody's around. Her Papa wouldn't like her being up so early, but she's done this every year, and she never gets caught.

Once she's sure that the hallways are free, she takes a step out first, the rest of her body following, and then she's off along the floor, stalling at every creak that she hears. Eventually, she reaches his bedroom, opening the door quickly and practically jumping inside.

Spinning on her heel, with an alarming amount of enthusiasm for the time, she suddenly stops dead in her tracks when she sees that Blaine isn't alone in bed.

"Kurt?" she squeaks, her voice stirring the two from their sleep, where they'd been tangled around each other. "Oh my," she mumbles to herself, covering her eyes when there's a flash of something she _does not_ want to see.

"Rachel! We were… Blaine and I – " Kurt starts, his voice completely high and panicked, and she hears Blaine shushing him.

"She knows."

"She knows?!" he screeches, "and you didn't think that you should tell me your sister knows before she finds us in bed together, _naked_."

She speaks up, "and _really_ wishing that you weren't so naked!" Rachel keeps her hand firmly over her eyes. The next sound she hears is that of them fumbling to find clothes, or anything, to make themselves decent and – after what feels like hours – Blaine tells her that she can look.

"What are you even doing in here?" Kurt questions her, sitting on the edge of the bed; now in the clothes she'd seen him in yesterday. But he'd left… so that means that he must have snuck back inside somehow so that he and Blaine could have… intercourse. She feels herself blushing madly. Kurt snaps his fingers in front of her face, "hello, anybody in there?"

Giving him a glare, she sighs, "it's Blaine's birthday." Her voice is eager, bright, as if she just hadn't witnessed what she had.

Kurt tilts his head, "and…?"

"Every birthday," Blaine supplies, "she wakes me up early to give me my present."

She beams in his direction.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you were five," Kurt rolls his eyes, watching her stroll past him and perch herself on the edge of the bed beside Blaine, pulling him into a tight hug which he quickly reciprocates. "Wait, so… how long have you known about us? You haven't told anyone, have you?"

"No," she peers at him over Blaine's shoulder, "and don't worry, I won't."

"It's just that you're not particularly _good_ at keeping secrets," he frets, worrying his lip.

"Kurt, she promised that she wouldn't tell anyone, so she won't."

She moves out of Blaine's embrace, handing over his present. "Happy birthday," she says giddily, looking more excited than the birthday boy, and Kurt can't help but shake his head at her. Still, he moves closer to them on the bed, curiously watching as Blaine's begins to unwrap the paper. He smiles when he sees the large album unveiled, on the front a picture of his younger self, with wild, curly hair, and a large, cheeky grin as he stares straight at the camera. Opening the album, he finds a large variety of pictures within, all of him with family and friends, but mostly with Rachel and Kurt.

There's one of him and Kurt, when he must have been twelve or thirteen, having fallen asleep right next to each other, Kurt half lying over Blaine, and he remembers being woken up by Rachel snapping a picture of it.

He blushes when he sees the words 'kitten boy!" written in her swirly script, below a picture of him posing like a hero.

"I couldn't resist," Rachel mumbles in his ear, leaning her chin on his shoulder as they continue to look at them together.

"Oh god," Kurt announces dramatically, "you had to choose the most unflattering pictures of me, didn't you?" Her only response is to laugh at her friend.

Blaine grins, "I think you look perfect in all of them." He wraps his arm around Rachel and kisses her forehead, "thank you, I love it." He continues to look through it again until Kurt realizes the time. He looks over at the clock, sighing when he knows that Kurt is already late in returning to his home and to leave it any longer would be dangerous. "I'll see you later tonight?"

He nods, sliding his arms around Blaine's waist as he says goodbye, "of course. You know that I can't resist a good party, and anyway, I've got a gift of my own to give you." With a wink and a tender kiss, he leaves the room ever so quietly.

Blaine peers down at Rachel, noticing her slightly uncomfortable look. "You're okay with it, aren't you? Kurt and I?" His hands find hers, eyes desperately searching her face.

Looking at the sheets, she slowly nods, Finn's speech repeating itself in her mind, "you love him. You should be able to be with him."

He visibly relaxes when she says that, pulling her into another hug. "You know, you're the best sister ever."

"Well," she beams, "I can't argue with that." His face breaks out into a grin, before he suddenly yawns. "You're tired?" she questions.

"Not everyone can wake up at ridiculously early times," he pokes her side, "now come on, let's get some sleep. You want to have lots of energy for the party, don't you?" She pouts, but still lies down next to him.

* * *

She walks around the house, which is hard when there are so many people – _all_ of which taller than her. Eventually, she finds Blaine with Sam Evans and Quinn Fabray; that would explain why he doesn't look so happy. Slipping up to his side, she smiles, "hi."

Blaine looks completely relieved to see her again, "hey Rachel. Where'd you go?"

"I was talking to Jesse," she explains.

With a nod, he takes a sip of his drink, noticing her lack of drink, "do you want me to get you something?"

Rachel frowns, "Papa said that I couldn't have any of the champagne." He gives her a sympathetic smile, then glares at Quinn who sniggers at this revelation, bringing her own drink to her lips. She is only seventeen, so she understands, but all of her friends are older than her and so can drink of their own accord. It'd just be nice to have the same freedom with it that they do.

Still, at least she can't get intoxicated and make a fool of herself, so that's at least an advantage.

She's distracted a moment when she notices a ring on Quinn's wedding finger, flashing in the bright light of the room. So the engagement is official… Maybe that's why Blaine looks so uncomfortable right now, so unnatural, and she reaches out to gently squeeze his hand. He smiles down at her, as if knowing what she's trying to say without actually speaking the words.

After a while, Rachel starts to feel warm, moving outside for a few seconds to get some fresh air. Blaine was going to accompany her out, but then Kurt had arrived and she'd told him to go with him instead, which he was more than happy to do.

There are a few others outside, taking in the crisp cold of the evening air, and she smiles at the few that she knows. Papa had introduced her and Blaine at the start of the party, so more know her than the other way around. Still, she's pretty much left by herself, which is nice. Sometimes you just need a moment to think by yourself.

Her eyes move along the quiet street, and it becomes even quieter when rain begins to fall from the dark clouds above, forcing the guests inside. She's on her way in too, when a figure catches her eye – a tall, imposing figure in the distance that seems strangely familiar to her. He's not in party clothes; instead, old and scruffy clothing.

She knows who it is. But, why would he be here of all places?

Before she can stop herself, she's rushing at full speed toward him. "Finn!" she calls out, approaching him quickly. She's completely unaware of Quinn's cold eyes watching her through the window.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	7. VII

**So, I really liked writing this chapter, and I hope you guys like it too! Thank you for all the amazing reviews :)**

**Thanks to my awesome beta Lucy. You're the best!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

He feels so out of place as he walks through the streets, not consciously making a decision to go a certain direction, but he has a feeling he knows where his feet are carrying him. It's stupid. _He's_ stupid, for actually thinking like this, feeling like this. Of all the things he can't control in his life, he always thought that he had a good grasp on his feelings – or at least _hiding_ them - but apparently not. Now they're fighting back too.

It'd been okay, well not exactly, but all well enough. And then he'd noticed the date of the day. And it felt like a heavy weight crushing his chest – it's still crushing him, the harsh emotions threatening to suffocate his mind. For the moment, he wants to forget, _everything_. The pain, the sadness, and then there's the self-loathing, the constant need to blame himself. Five years of it, five long years, and the pain hasn't numbed; sometimes it feels like it's only becomes sharper in its sting. A part of him had been okay with letting the guilt eat him up, maybe for the rest of his life, because he convinced himself that he was to blame. He still thinks that. He would let his world become monotonous, empty, and then one day he'd die, just like she had.

Then he'd met Rachel.

And she… she reawakened a part of him, a part which desired _life_ again, and it scared the hell out of him. Change is good, he knows, but it wasn't welcome. He wasn't ready. And then feelings things – the same things that he hasn't felt for years – had almost bordered on betrayal in his eyes, or that's what he'd convinced himself anyway. He shouldn't feel things like that, not without her to share them with, and that's what causes the guilt to practically eat him alive.

He blinks, the buildings around him suddenly coming into focus, and he realizes where he is, that he's subconsciously walked nearer to Rachel's home. Cursing under his breath, he contemplates going in the opposite direction. He shouldn't see her anyway, not when he's like this. Not to mention that it's been weeks and, god, he shouldn't miss her as much as he has. Like he'd said to her at the beginning – they're of different worlds, and he doesn't belong in hers, as _anything_.

Still, he doesn't turn around. He may slow in his advance, but he remains in the same direction.

Time passes, the sky morphing into darkness, and the chill, night air begins to seep in. But he doesn't care.

Nor does he care when rain starts spitting from the sky, slowly but surely wetting his clothes.

"_Finn_!"

At the sound of her voice, his heart does all kinds of funny things, and once more he becomes angry at himself for letting that happen. Turning, he sees her smiling at him, despite the rain that's now falling on her and ruining her dress – which is probably the most lavish one he's seen her in yet. It must be nice, he thinks, to be born into such a wealthy family, and to never have to worry about money. Growing up in that environment, where everything is taken care for her, is probably the reason why she's so sheltered from the real world, why her naivety often reigns supreme.

She stops before him, craning her neck to look up at him. "W-what are you doing here?" she finally questions, face full of confusion. At the same time, the rain's becoming heavier, thicker droplets falling onto them while they stand idly beneath the clouds.

But she doesn't seem to notice. Instead, her large brown eyes are fixated on only him, and though he tries, he can't seem to find an answer to her question. _Why_ is he here? He'd been thinking about Rachel, but that's not new – he's thought about her a lot in these last few weeks, not that he'd ever tell her that. Her gaze doesn't waver, and it's all kinds of intense, though he thinks that he could maybe get lost in those eyes, if only for a little while. And that's exactly what he seems to do, until, "Finn?"

He blinks, "what?"

"What are you doing?" she frowns now, shaking her head at him slowly.

"A guy can't take a walk? Clear his head?"

"All the way over here?"

Finn pauses, observing her hastily. "I had a lot to think about," he starts, turning on his heel to take a few steps away from her. From behind him, he hears her frustrated groan and hides a smirk – it's pretty easy to wind her up, and he takes more pleasure in it than he should.

Like usual, she can't stop herself from asking. "Like what?" She's lifted a hand above her head, as if _that's_ going to keep the rain from hitting her, but today he doesn't have any jacket to offer her some shelter. His eyes slowly move past her toward her house, all the rooms on the bottom floor spilling bright light out on the street.

He completely disregards her question, "you should go inside. You'll get ill if you stay out here."

Looking over her shoulder, she peers back at her own home, and then to him again, biting her lower lip. "I don't want to go back. It's boring anyway."

"Boring?" he questions. He remembers being in her impressive home, and he would have thought that there are countless things to do in there.

Rachel nods, her expression slightly sad. "There's a party. It's Blaine's birthday." She smiles slightly at this, before it drops again, "but most of the people are the party are his and Papa's friends, and I'm probably the youngest one there…"

"Oh right. You are kind of young."

Her features scrunch up in annoyance. "If you're just going to call me a kid again, I'm going to go home, where it isn't cold and raining."

No, no, he doesn't want her to go. This meeting hasn't lasted long enough to make up for her absence in his life these past few weeks. "Stay," he commands quietly, and she looks up at him again in confusion. She does that a lot, though he suspects that his back and forth between moods probably _is_ confusing – it gives him enough of a headache.

Like right now, he knows he should feel sad, unhappy, because it's this day and he just shouldn't be allowed to feel anything good. But Rachel's here with him, and in some weird way, she's kind of his kryptonite. He just can't contain those sorts of feelings around her.

She stays, with him. And the rain begins a more relentless attack, so much that he feels the need to get them both away from it. "Come on," he says gently, gesturing with a nod of his head to a small, sheltered area by one of the restaurants down the street. She surprises him by taking his hand – hers is barely big enough to fit around his properly – and pulling him toward it. It's closed for the day and so they can occupy one of the small tables in peace, now tucked away from the rest of the world.

Looking down at her, he can't help but let out a chuckle at the pout forming on her lips as she gently runs a hand through her now wet hair. "Sorry," he apologizes, as though he's in control of the weather.

She shakes her head. "It's fine. Anyway, you still haven't answered my question."

"Hmmm?"

Rachel rolls her eyes, knowing that he's playing dumb to avoid her question, which only makes her want to know his answer even more. "What were you thinking about? You looked… upset…?"

Oh, so she noticed? He takes a deep breath, chest heaving outwards slowly and then back in again. Her gaze follows the movement, then rises to his face again, "there, you look sad again." Rachel looks at him with worry, "what's wrong Finn? Is that why you're here?" Her hand twitches, like she wants to reach out and grab his again, but thinks twice. Finding himself looking up and at her expression once more, he knows that he can't lie to her. He really had meant it that time when he'd said she makes it easy to let his defences down. When he's with her, it's like he doesn't have to hide anything, because he knows she won't judge him – she'll just want to help him.

She's still waiting, her impatience growing.

He finally speaks, "I just… it's hard for me to talk about, you know? It hurts." She nods sympathetically, though he has the feeling that she doesn't truly understand what he means, but is putting on the pretence that she does. Perhaps she's trying to make him feel better by doing so. And it makes him even surer that telling her is a good idea. Besides, having the weight on his shoulders lightened a little would make be something he's been wanting for years, but he's stopped himself from doing so, almost as a punishment. No one knows about his past, – not even his friends – and most of them seem to be okay with it being such a mystery. Except Rachel.

With a deep breath, he finally takes the plunge.

"Five years ago, to this day… my…" he stops, the words stuck in his throat. Seeing this, she actually does lean forward and takes his hand in hers, a little hesitantly – like she's afraid he'll tear it away. He doesn't, and then her tiny smile reassures him to go on, that she's listening. "There was this girl," he says, his voice thick with sadness and regret as he does so. "Amie," he smiles sadly, cursing himself in his mind at the feeling of tears prickling his eyes just from saying her name out loud. He notices Rachel swallow thickly, too, her eyes downcast for a moment. "We were together… ever since school – I swore that she was the one. God we were… inseparable. I couldn't get enough of her." With each word, his heart clenches tightly, almost painfully, in his chest.

It's just been five years – five years without her there. And that thought makes him sick, angry, and just downright depressed. She didn't deserve what happened to her, and yet it did. The worst thing was that he could do nothing about it, not a single thing, and that haunts him.

"Finn?" she questions unsure. It's then that he realizes he hasn't been saying anything, instead staring off into the distance, and leaving Rachel to further fret. She tilts her head ever so slightly, trying to weigh up his behavior, and failing.

"She died," he whispers out, voice, and heart, broken. Rachel lets out an audible gasp, her free hand rising to cover her mouth, eyes swimming with sadness.

She looks down, "I'm sorry."

Finn closes his eyes, sighing. He doesn't deserve her sympathy, he never will. "It was my fault," he confesses, chest heavy, like his own pain is flattening him. "I was so stupid – I shouldn't have… it's my fault."

Warily, she watches him, and then squeezes his hand with her own soft one, "Finn, it's not. You can't – you _shouldn't_ blame yourself."

"But it's my fault!" he snaps back, causing her to recoil slightly, eyes startled. He instantly regrets it. He's supposed to be opening up to her, not scaring her away, but then again, when she learns more about him, she'll probably want nothing more to do with him anyway. And he doesn't want that. He can't lose another person. These past few weeks alone have already caused enough emptiness to last a lifetime.

She hesitates, her mind clearly considering something. "What happened?" she eventually asks, timid in her question. He frowns, thinking that it must have at least scared her a little with his outburst: it's not like her to be timid.

"I was away," he explains, looking out into the rain, which falls at a steady pace, bringing along with it a surprisingly soothing sound to his ears. He did always love the sound of rain. "The war… I fought overseas and I wasn't here. I should have been – I should have been with her…" He drops his head into his hands, eyes scrunched up as if to keep his tears from overpowering him, "I just… I could have stopped it."

"Stopped what?" she frowns, looking completely wrapped up in his words, her gaze never leaving him.

He looks down at his shaking hands, anger coursing through them. His free hand curls into a fist, the white of his knuckles showing. "I… God – it's so bad."

"You don't have to tell me… if you don't want to."

His teeth are gritted, his eyes red with tears, and he just wishes that the emotions weren't this intense after so long, but he feels like he did the night he found out, where he'd just wanted to scream in frustration; then cry all the those feelings away. They didn't go though, ever. No matter how much he cried, or screamed, they remained. Sometimes they're dormant, like they're waiting for the perfect moment to strike again, yet they're always there.

But, a part of moving on is accepting things. And he's never going to accept it if he barely talks about it, because nothing good will come of haboring all these negative feelings. He's lost many friends over it already and he's not about to lose anything remaining in his life.

"No, I want to tell you," he says, "I _need_ to. I just – I'll get angry, or upset."

She frowns, but nods, "it's okay, if you do. I'm here for you."

Finn, for what he's pretty sure is the first time that day, allows himself to smile at her kind words. She's always so willing to help others: she lied for Blaine so that he could keep being trained; she did so _again_ after his fight; and now, after all the confusion that he's put her through, she wants to sit and listen to his problems, to try and help.

"She was walking home," he starts, "it was late – she shouldn't have been out, but she was. And… and…" He drops his face into his hand, trying to keep his emotions under control. It doesn't work, but Rachel doesn't seem to mind. She just squeezes his hand tighter. "These men appeared, all of them drunk. And I don't know what happened after that b-but they must have followed her home, because they tried to… t-to…"

Rachel nods her head, showing that she understands and he doesn't need to say it. For that, he's thankful.

"She fought back," he continues, "stopped them. But they beat her because of it. And they just… they fucking left her on the street. They beat her up and _left_ her. She ended up in hospital, but it was too late. Internal bleeding, they said. Brain damage, too." He slowly shakes his head, "they couldn't save her."

And with that, he breaks down, his chest heaving with deep sobs. Rachel is on her feet in an instant, wrapping her arms tightly around his shaking body. She doesn't know what to say, what to do. She's never been in a situation even _close_ to this, and being faced with something so completely out of her comfort zone is difficult.

She can't help but think how good it is for Finn, finally sharing this with someone. He's kept it to himself for five years – surely it must have been eating away at him for just as long. Now, the way he acts makes sense, and she feels nothing but the greatest sympathy for him, having lost someone that he clearly loved very deeply.

Closing her eyes, she continues to embrace him, waiting until his sobs calm and his body stills. He's soon just idle in her arms.

"It's my fault," he whispers again, looking up at her. He suddenly looks younger than his year and more like an upset child. She feels her head snap in two at the sigh to of it.

"No, it's not."

He sighs, "if I was there."

"Finn, you can't keep torturing yourself like this, with ifs and buts. It was those men – they were the ones who did it. And you, you're the sufferer. Five years, Finn. That's too long for you to blame yourself." She stares at him, hoping that her words are getting through to him, but it's hard to tell, since his face becomes devoid of any emotions. Her worry reaches a peak.

She doesn't know how much time passes that they stay like that, nor does she particularly care, but it's as though the feel of her embrace calms Finn in some way, and she's happy to help him do that.

"Rachel!" she jumps at the sound of her name being called in the distance, though it's slightly muffled by the rain, and dread runs through her body when she realizes that it's her Papa. She takes a step back, looking toward her house with wide eyes. Finn seems to notice too, his brows dipping together upon seeing her reaction. "What?" she asks.

He shrugs, "nah, it's not my place."

But she doesn't move, making it clear that she wants to know. "Please?"

"It's just… I don't like the way your dad treats you and stuff. I dunno, it's kind of like you're scared of him."

"That's – that's _ridiculous_," she insists. Despite her words, she can't stop herself from wincing when her name is sharply called once more. "I have to go," she says with urgency, and Finn merely nods. She pauses for a moment, eyes meeting his and then smiling softly, "it's good that you shared all that with me, Finn. Of course, the story was tragic, and I feel for you, I really do, but it's been five years. That's an awfully long time to live with it alone."

He nods solemnly.

Rachel ducks her head, turning to step out into the rain and move toward her home, where her Papa is no doubt waiting for her – and ready to demand where she'd been for the past hour. Her stomach sinks at the thought of having to concoct yet another lie (she may be an actress, but it just doesn't feel right to do that to her Papa) and her head spins with what she could possibly say. Right now, she doesn't have anything.

Throwing a look over her shoulder, she sees Finn staring back, his features still sad. She doesn't like seeing him like that. He's not under the shelter either, allowing the rain to quickly soak him to the skin, clothes clinging tightly to his toned body. She shivers herself, and thinks about how cold he must be, and will be, especially when he has to walk all the way home. Then she remembers; the jacket! The same one that he'd left here weeks ago, the one she may or may not have kept in her room, smiling every time she saw it.

"Finn!" she shouts, waving him over. He stares at her like she's crazy, yet she persists until he's standing before her once more.

"You should be going home," he says, looking over her head to see her Father standing on the doorstep, his expression stony.

She waves that idea away, "you're going to get sick if you walk home in just that."

"Rachel, you need to go, yo – "

"You left your jacket with me. Let me go get it for you," she insists, nodding eagerly.

"That's great, but I don't exactly feel like waiting under the watchful eye of dear old daddy. He already hates people like me enough."

At that, she frowns, but she knows that his sentiment is true. But how is she supposed to get the jacket to him any other way? "The balcony!" she practically shouts in his face, causing his eyes the bulge and his body to lurch backwards. Rachel blushes slightly, before continuing, "once I've gone inside and Papa can't see, sneak around the back to my room. There's a balcony – I can give it to you that way."

He eventually sighs, "okay. I'll wait for you there. Just, please hurry up. I want to go home."

Rachel frowns, "you know, just because this is the anniversary of a terrible event doesn't mean that you have to spend the day being miserable yourself." When he glares at her, she quickly backpedals, "Finn, she wouldn't want you to be sad."

"How do you know what she'd want?" he asks, coldly, and she finds herself frowning at his sudden mood change.

"Finn," she says, "I'm just trying to help…"

He sighs loudly, rubbing a hand over his tired face. "I'll wait for you," he repeats. She fears, for a moment, that all his progress has been lost, but she knows deep down that it must just be too much for him to handle at once, and if he's going to get better it's best done slowly, carefully.

She starts walking again, feeling her Papa's glare become more intense the closer she gets, and she calms herself with deep, steady breaths. Finally, she's facing him. Or more, stood before him, staring at the ground. She can't bear to look at him while he's think angry with her.

"Get inside," he tells her slowly – she knows that he's not going to cause a scene in front of all the guests because, above all, appearances are the most important in their household. Her feet move forward, taking her along the side of the large foyer and up the stairs. She lifts her gaze momentarily, finding her eyes meeting with Blaine's, who stares back with worry. She tries to smile, to reassure him that it's fine – when really, it isn't – but it comes out as more of a grimace.

Once she's inside her room, she flinches as the door is slammed shut behind her, and spins, still unable to look her Papa in the eye.

"I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to tell me the truth, Rachel." She slowly nods. "Who was that man that you were talking to and, not only that, but spent an _hour_ with?" Rachel frowns; was it really that long that she'd spent with Finn. The time had just flown by.

Still, she has no idea what to say to Papa, without it being painfully obvious that she's lying – there are just no liable excuses that she can produce. So she does the only thing she can. She tells the truth. Well, a _twisted_ version of the truth.

"I was with Finn, Papa."

"Finn? Who is _Finn_?"

She gulps: she hasn't heard her Papa this angry since one of his arguments with Blaine, and never before has _she_ been on the receiving end of it. "The man who helped Blaine and I," she says, "when those people tried to mug us."

Raising her gaze, she suddenly feels ridiculously small under his expression. "That man? You were with him?" he growls, "Rachel Anderson, you know full well that you're not supposed to be alone at night with men, men who are so much older than you. Do you know how stupid that is? He could have hurt you, or worse, taken advantage of you."

"Bu – " She tries to explain that Finn would _never_ do anything like that, yet her Papa refuses to listen, holding a hand up to silence her.

"You're far too young to understand all the dangers in this world, and when I do try to protect you from them, you repay me by _sneaking_ _off_? Being with _men_?"

"It's not like that!" she cries, "we were just talking."

He shakes his head at her, eyes disbelieving that he's hearing such words from his daughter. "You shouldn't have been doing _anything_ with him. That man is a low life, working class scum and you should not be associating yourself with such people."

"But he helped us!"

"He's beneath you! He isn't worthy of knowing you – not my daughter. He's not like Jesse St James, or Sam Evans. He was born poor and he will die poor."

She feels tears brimming in her eyes at the implication that, just because Finn doesn't have as much money as they do, he shouldn't be able to be friends with them, to even talk to them. "Finn is a good man," she says quietly.

"This isn't a discussion, Rachel. This is me; your Father, telling you what to do, and I expect you to follow my orders." He speaks sternly, making clear that there's no room for argument. She desperately wants to make him understand, to see Finn as more than the amount of money he possesses, but she knows it's fruitless. "Do you understand?"

She swallows thickly, trying to keep back the tears as she stares into his eyes, "yes Papa."

"Good," he nods, "now I don't want to ever see you with him again, or anyone like him. You're an Anderson, and you're better than that. You're better than _him_. And continuing to talk to people like him will give this family a bad name."

"But what's wrong with them? I don't understa –"

"I'll hear no more of th –"

"Tell me, Papa! Explain it to me. Why is it so bad to not have as much money or things as we do? Not everyone is lucky eno – "

His pupils narrow, faced slightly red with anger, "I said _enough_!"

"Papa, I want to – "

She doesn't expect it, not one bit. But the next second his hand collides with her cheek, the slap echoing around the room and then a dead silence follows. She stares, the complete and utter shock registering on her face. Her hand slowly rises to the red mark growing on her cheek, all the while staring at him with tears in her eyes.

"That's… that's enough," he says slowly, his own eyes slightly widened. He'd hit her out of frustration and it shows on his face that he's surprised like she is. It feels like time moves slowly, both stuck in the moment. Rachel tells herself over and over not to cry, but that doesn't stop a single tear rolling down her cheek. He takes a shaky breath, unable to look at her, "stay in your room for the rest of the night. Goodnight Rachel."

She stares as he retreats from her room, without so much as another word. As soon as he's gone, she wants nothing more other than to burst into tears and cry the night away, but then she remembers that Finn is waiting for her and she puts on a brave face, slowly walking to the balcony doors. The minute she opens them, the cold air hits her. It's a relief to her sore cheek, which she gently rubs, unable to truly believe what had happened. Her Papa _struck_ her. She made him so angry that he'd hit her, and now her body is wracked with confusion and guilt.

Forcing that to the back of her mind, she steps into the rain, which has eased on its fall slightly, and peers over the edge to see Finn directly beneath it.

"Rach! What took you so long?"

She's glad that he can't see her cheek from down there, and tries to make her voice sound as normal as possible. "I'm sorry. Papa was talking to me and he's only just left."

Finn rolls his eyes, stood completely soaked while he looks up at her. She thinks that maybe the jacket is going to be pointless now, but at least she's giving it back to him, just in case this is the last chance to. She doesn't want Finn out of her life – there's still so much that she wants to learn about the man – but she fears that her Papa will make it difficult for her to talk to him. After tonight, he's surely going to make sure that there's someone watching her at all times. Although, she wonders, how exactly did he know that she'd left the party that night? He'd been so busy with the guests that he'd practically ignored her most of the night anyway, and assuming that she'd be with Blaine, there'd be no reason for him to worry. So how did he know?

She shakes her head, and tries not to think about it as she tells Finn to wait a minute and goes to retrieve his jacket. It's draped over the back of the chair in front of her vanity and she can't help but smile as she holds it, for the last time, almost hugging it to her chest. She steps outside again, "I have it."

"Okay, just throw it down," he shouts up, holding his hands up ready to catch.

She does as he says, though her aim is slightly off, but Finn easily compensates for it and catches his jacket. He smiles up at her, and she thinks that she's going to miss that smile. "Thank you."

"Goodbye Finn," she says sadly.

"Goodbye," he echoes, shrugging the jacket on and walking from under her balcony. She watches him go, not caring that the rain is falling on her and that she's shivering, too. All she has eyes for is Finn, while her Papa's words echo in her mind.

_Low life, working class scum._

She frowns. Her Papa is wrong.

But the stinging of her cheek reminds her that, whether he's right or wrong, he's still in charge of their house, of her, and there's nothing she can do about that.

With a frown planted firmly to her face, she makes her way back into her room, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and stay there forever. First, she peels off her soaked dress and slips into a nightgown, relishing in the warmth of the fresh clothes, and then she brushes through her hair once.

She's so deep in thought that she barely notices the knock on the door. Not wanting anyone to see her sore and red cheek, she quickly crawls into bed and places that one side of her face against the pillow. "Come in!" she shouts, an instant later the door slowly opening to reveal her brother and Kurt.

"Hey," he greets her softly, "Father said that you weren't feeling well."

"Hmmm."

He slowly sits himself on the bed beside her, while Kurt remains stood. They don't ask her about why she'd taken so long outside, and she's glad that they don't, because she knows that she could never lie to these two like that. She even hates the thought of it.

"You should be at your party," she mumbles into the pillow, pretending to be tired so that she can be by herself sooner. "It's your birthday."

"We were kind of getting sick of Quinn throwing herself all over him," Kurt replies with distaste at the mention of Quinn, " I was one step away fro – "

Blaine sends him a look, silencing him, but he still reaches out for his hand, which Kurt gladly takes. They both look at her, as if waiting for her to say something, like usual, but today she has nothing to say. They peer at each other with frowns.

"Rachel?"

"Yes?" she whispers.

He inches closer to her, smiling. "It's just that you're being scarily quiet."

"I'm tired," she replies.

They finally get the hint and stand together, Blaine's hand on the small of Kurt's back as he speaks, "we'll leave you to sleep then. Goodnight, little sis." He kisses her cheek, smiling gently at her, "I hope you feel better."

She doesn't count on it.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	8. VIII

**Thank you to Lucy for beta'ing, again. She makes this whole process even more fun that it already is :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

When she wakes, the sun streaming through her window brightly, she has almost forgotten the events that unfolded the previous night. _Almost_. It only takes a couple of minutes for everything to come flooding back. Finn, his story, and then her Papa, and…

She jumps out of bed, rushing across the room to her vanity where she stares in the mirror. The minute she catches her reflection, her heart sinks. Rachel's fingers ghost over the pale, purple bruise adorning her cheek, and she feels tears brimming as she becomes swept up in the emotions that she'd felt last night. Guilt. Shame. Confusion. It all feels too much to handle, especially this early in the morning. And now, staring at her hurt face, they all seem to intensify a hundred times.

Rachel doesn't want to face her Papa, or anyone for that matter, so she does something completely out of character – she slowly crawls back into bed and throws the covers over her head, as if hiding from the rest of the world. She scrunches her eyes closed, willing herself to go back to sleep, but that's useless. Instead, she lays there and she can't stop her thoughts from wandering to Finn.

After last night, she hopes he's okay, or at least better than he was. She wants nothing more than to find him now, to hold and comfort him. He looked so broken as he relived the memories – it was certainly a change from seeing him reserved, hidden away. And though it must be hard for him now, she's sure that it'll improve in the future, because he needs to move on from Amie's death, and he can't do that if he's stuck in the past, blaming himself.

The door slowly opens, but she doesn't move. Surely by now she's missed breakfast, and she assumes that it's somebody here to question why. She prays, with a heavy feeling washing over her body, that it isn't Papa.

"Rachel?" At the sound of Blaine, relief spreads through her. "You awake?"

"Yes," her voice is so quiet that it barely carries through the thick cover, and Blaine chuckles, reaching to tug it down. "No!" she panics, turning onto her side and refusing to face him.

He tilts his head, eyes amused, "you're acting weird. Are you still feeling ill?" Rachel nods her head ever so slightly, curling further into herself. She hears movement, and feels the bed dip as Blaine's weight settles on it, though he startles her when his cold hand touches her forehead. Yelping, she jumps up, which earns a look from Blaine.

And then his eyes move lower, brows knitting together.

"Y-your hands are cold," she tries to change the subject, twisting her neck so that he can't the bruise any more, in spite that she knows he's just seen her cheek, hence his inability to speak right now. He gently reaches out, cupping her chin so that he can get a better look.

"Rachel," he whispers out, confused, shocked. She can barely look him in the eye, which causes him further worry. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

She shakes her head, "_nobody_ did."

"Nobody?" he cries, "Rachel, you've got a huge bruise on your face!" He gestures towards it, jumping to his feet with a sudden spark on anger. "Tell me, who did it?"

"I – I fell, it's nothing." She recoils away from his touch, wondering whether it's too late to just crawl back under her covers again, but Blaine is persistent. This is exactly why she had been trying to keep him from knowing, since he'd make a huge fuss. And really, someone else knowing that _something_ happened makes it all the more real, and she wants to just forget the whole ordeal.

He raises his thick eyebrows in question, "you fell?

Rachel nods pathetically, her hand slowly rising to hide the bruise from his prying eyes, and by covering it up maybe she can pretend that it isn't there. His features suddenly darken in a way that makes her stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Why are you lying?"

"I'm… I'm not," she tries weakly. For someone who prides herself so much on her acting skills, they're coming up pretty poor now. And especially in a time when she most needs them.

His forehead creases, angry lines appearing. "I thought that we told each other everything…"

"Oh, like you told me about you and Kurt?" she snaps back, instantly regretting it when a hurt expression crosses his face. Her voice had sounded so bitter, so blunt, that even _she_ hadn't liked the way the words had come out. "I'm sorry, I didn't – " Rachel cuts herself short, staring dejectedly at the cover beneath her, thinking how she's going to upset him whatever she says.

By the look on his face, she half expects him to get up and leave, but he doesn't. Instead, he nods of couple of times, his jawline tight. "We were protecting you by not telling you, Rachel."

"Protecting me from _what_ exactly?" she is surprised when she finds her voice raised, riddled with exasperation. She doesn't usually yell, not like this anyway, and _especially_ not at Blaine. But she's so sick of people trying to protect her from… from everything, from living her life. She's almost eighteen years old – isn't it about time that she protects herself?

"If we were… _discovered_," he begins delicately, "and Father found out that you knew about it… I just, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you." His eyes plead with her, "I just want to keep you safe." Rachel hesitates, feeling bad for having snapped at him on more than one occasion. Of course, his motives are always thinking about her well-being; that's just the way Blaine naturally is. Yet, it's still frustrating to be in her position, where everyone feels the need to do things for her.

"Rachel, please. Tell me who did it."

She feels tears threatening to fall. By telling Blaine that it was Papa, she knows it's only going to further fuel the problems between the two, and she _can't_ let that happen. "I am telling you," she decides, "no one did it." Now it's her turn to plead with him, her expression making it clear that there's no room for argument, no matter how much he wants to fight against it. "Please, just believe me."

He's struggling, she can see. His eyes search her face sadly, mouth hanging open with unsaid words.

"Besides," she adds, "you should go. You're going to be late for work."

Blaine stares at her, like he can't believe she's just brushing off his concerns like this, while at the same time her sad expression makes him want to question her further. He just doesn't understand why she's being so secretive.

Deflated, he begins to back out of the room. "I'll see you later," he practically whispers, eyes searching her face for any change in emotion. Nothing. He turns, lingering for a moment, before stepping out of the room.

Once he's gone, she allows herself to relax again. Well, for a little while. No matter how much time she spends lost in her daydreams, it's still stuck to the back of her mind, a constant nagging that soon Miss Shelby with be here and another person will see the bruise. She feels sick, anxious, knowing that the talk following so could very well go as badly as it had that morning with Blaine.

Why can't she just spend the day in her room where she won't leave and equally, no one will enter? Rachel sighs, turning onto her back and staring at the ceiling, where there are tiny stars scattered about – they've been there ever since she could remember, and she's loved them just as long. Stars are kind of her thing. For the first time that day, a smile makes its way to her lips and stays there for a good few minutes.

That is until someone knocks on the door, and she knows exactly who it is. "Rachel, can I come in?" Miss Shelby's voice gently carries through the door, as if trying not to be too loud in case she is asleep.

She mumbles out a quick, "yes," and a couple of seconds later, the handle twists and Miss Shelby steps inside, a soft smile on her pale pink lips.

"So I'm guessing your plan is to laze around in your room all day, hmm?" She chuckles at the sight of her still curled up beneath her covers, hair astray and wild, and Rachel blushes slightly. "that's not very like you, Rachel." Her eyebrow peaks, gaze baring down at the girl, who searches for the right words to say.

But when Blaine thought she wasn't feeling well, he'd tried to get closer to her, and she doesn't need that now, not with Miss Shelby, so a different excuse is required. "It was a long night," she finally lies, hating every second of it, "and I didn't get to bed until late."

"I see," she nods, that playful smile still on her lips, but she's also wearing a caring expression too, almost maternal. "Your Father said that you were feeling sick. Is everything okay now? Or are you just tired?"

"Just tired," she mumbles back, though she isn't tired at all. Although, she semi closes her eyes in a sleepy fashion, before she blinks, staring back up at her tutor once more. The woman seems to accept this excuse rather easily, but she doesn't make to leave and Rachel watches as she lingers at the door. "Yes?" she questions her.

"I was just wondering how long to give you before I have to drag you out of bed myself," she chuckles, eyes glistening with amusement.

Rachel groans, "can I not just miss my classes for today?"

"You certainly cannot!" she replies sternly, hand on hip. "Your education is important, and I'm not letting you waste the day away in bed." At this, she rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically. What's so bad about missing _one_ day of her studies? "So," Miss Shelby continues, "you've got thirty minutes to get dressed and ready. There'll be some breakfast waiting for you, since I'm assuming you haven't had anything." She takes Rachel's low grumble as a yes, then chuckles and leaves the room, all the time Rachel feeling a low, sinking feeling – she'd been expecting to just get away with staying cooped up in her room by herself, but the world just isn't being very fair to her lately. And now Miss Shelby's going to see her face. Then commences the interrogation as to how it happened.

Feeling at an all-time low, she drags herself from her bed and slowly makes her way to her bathroom. When she catches her reflection in the mirror, Rachel quickly turns away so she doesn't have to face it and remember, and then she gets ready to take a shower. It doesn't take her long to be ready for Miss Shelby, and with the spare time she finds herself unable to _not_ look at her reflection. It's almost like she's torturing herself by doing so, so apparently she's a masochist. As she stares, her Papa's enraged voice is still strong in her mind, like she's experiencing it all over again.

For a moment, she tries to convince herself that Miss Shelby won't notice the bruise; that it's not that easy to see, but it's a foolish attempt. It's as clear as the nose on her face.

Biting her lip, she stares down at the things on her vanity, the few selections of makeup she has staring back at her. Her eyes glisten with an idea. She could cover it up! Surely the right makeup could veil her bruise, or hide up enough so that it's not noticeable, and she can avoid another grilling. Spurred on with her new innovation, she quickly begins, watching as the purple and blue becomes hidden beneath the makeup, and her spirits suddenly become uplifted.

It's just as she's finishing off that Miss Shelby steps into the room, this time unannounced, and finds Rachel intrigued in her mirror. "You actually got up," she says, sounding surprised, "breakfast is on the table, if you're hungry." Rachel's stomach growls at that thought, almost painfully empty since her last meal had been around lunch time yesterday.

Miss Shelby steps nearer the girl, her height towering her, and then her eyes are drawn to the makeup cases opened before her. She can't help but smile down at Rachel, "why're you putting makeup on? You never do that when you've just got classes." Her hand gently wraps around Rachel's shoulder, "besides, you don't need it, Rachel. You're beautiful without makeup."

Despite the bad day that she's having, Rachel feels a smile tugging at her lips when she hears that sentiment, especially from the only female role model she really has in life. "I just… I wanted a change," she announces, looking back to herself.

"Well, you don't need it. Come on, take that stuff off."

Fear strikes through her, and she really hopes that it doesn't show on her face, "but I want it on."

"I'm not going to argue with you on this." When Rachel remains still, her eyes becoming watery with each second that passes, the woman sighs and moves to the bathroom where she comes back with a washcloth, "I know that you're growing up and you probably want to impress people, but really, you don't need makeup, sweetie. Not for a day like this anyway."

When she brings the damp cloth near her face, Rachel practically jumps back, large brown eyes wide. She shakes her head insistently, but Miss Shelby doesn't falter in her advance and, the next thing she knows, the makeup is being wiped from her face. She can't do anything to stop the surge of tears flooding her eyes, because she's just not ready for another person to see it and to have to lie _yet again_.

"Why're you crying?" The woman's concern shines through, and Rachel tries to tug her head away, but it's useless as the cloth is dragged right over her bruise.

"Ow," she hisses through the sharp pain, closing her eyes. But, even though she can't see, she can practically feel Miss Shelby's intense gaze on the spot she'd just cleaned. Everything around them is still, the only thing she can actually hear being her own heartbeat pounding in her head. Rachel squints an eye open, finding Miss Shelby with her eyes solely on that one spot, as though doubting whether it's really there or not.

Eventually, she speaks, in a breathless whisper. "Oh, Rachel."

Their eyes lock, Miss Shelby's brimming with an overwhelming amount of confusion and worry. Her thumb gently rubs over the bruise, complete disbelief showing. And Rachel knows that second that she can't lie to her, not like she had Blaine. Her lower lip wobbles dangerous, a thick lump in her throat crawling its way up, and she bursts into a fit of tears.

Miss Shelby catches her in an instant, the woman's embrace warm and comforting, while her hand gently rubs Rachel's back. She takes them over to the bed, where she can hold her more comfortably, and Rachel easily complies, her body almost like a rag doll. "Shhh," she soothes her, "it's okay, I'm here."

Her words do manage to calm Rachel, eventually anyway, and her sobs turn into small whimpers, a hiccup occasionally passing her lips. All the while, she's still in the woman's arms, head pressed against her chest. If she weren't so preoccupied with Miss Shelby finding out that her Papa had hit her, she wouldn't thought how nice a feeling it is, to be hugged like this. Of course, Blaine's hugged her like this before, and sometimes her Papa too, but this just feels _different_, better.

Still, it doesn't defer from the more prominent part of the situation, the reason why they're like this in the first place. "Rachel," Miss's Shelby quietly begins, and the girl closes her eyes, knowing what the next question is going to be, "how did you get that bruise?" Though it's not spoken, she can hear the real questions – _who_ gave her that bruise, and that sick feeling returns once more.

"I don't…" she tries, uselessly, and trails off when she catches glimpse of Miss Shelby's expression. Rather than speak, a fresh batch of tears arrive.

"_Rachel_."

Taking a deep, shaky breath, she finally forces the word out. "Papa."

Miss Shelby tenses around. "Your _Father_?!" If she thought that her Papa sounded angry yesterday, then that's nothing compared to _that_ response.

She gives a tiny nod.

"How could he hit his own child? Is the man insane?" she practically growls, "I'm going to find him right now an – "

"No!" Rachel cries, "please." She throws herself out of Miss Shelby's embrace, staring at her with an expression of complete horror. "You _can't_." If her Papa knew that she'd told somebody, would he be even angrier with her than he already is? She just doesn't want that – after last night she never wants to see him angry again.

Miss Shelby glances down at her like she's crazy. "Rachel, he can't do things like that to you, no matter who he is." He hand gently touches the bruise, "he left a _bruise_ on you."

"He didn't mean to," she says desperately, "he… he… we were both angry, and yelling at each other. He just… - he snapped, it's not his fault." She wonders whether defending him is the right thing to do, because Miss Shelby clearly disagrees with that, but then, they were angry, and her Papa has always had a temper, much like Blaine. Really, it was stupid of her to even get his rage so worked up to the point where it'd exploded out through the slap. Isn't she partially to blame for it?

"_Why_ was he angry at you?" She still holds onto Rachel, her grip tightening slightly when she sees Rachel's expression falter and she drops her gaze to the floor. Now her curiosity peaks. What exactly had Rachel done to get in trouble – she's _always_ been obedient and well behaved.

Her stern glare makes its appearance, pushing Rachel into telling the truth.

"I – I…" she's struggles to find the words to say. "Yesterday," her voice trembles, "during Blaine's party, I went outside, for some fresh air." She sniffles loudly, "a – and there was this guy there."

"A _guy_?" her shock is evident. That's not very like her.

Rachel nods sadly, obviously not realizing the tone of Miss Shelby's voice, and she continues, "he's a friend of Blaine and myself. And he… he was upset. H-he needed someone to talk to and what kind of friend would I be if I didn't help him?" She pauses, a tiny smile on his lips, "but I was out for too long, and Papa came out to get me. So I went inside, and he took me to my room. He s-started saying that I shouldn't talk to Finn anymore, that he's not good enough. I asked why, why he isn't." Her eyebrows dip together, "but I got him so, so angry, and he hit me."

Miss Shelby's grip tightens on her hand, her jaw locking at those last words, especially when Rachel cries some more. She reaches out, gently easing her into her embrace once again, where it feels right.

She can't stop herself from questioning one thing though, "tell me about this man, Rachel? Who is he?"

"F-Finn?" Rachel looks up to her, eyes wide and innocent.

Her brows furrow together – she's never heard of someone called Finn, which is odd seeing as she knows practically all of Rachel, and even Blaine's friends. They tend to mix with the same families, and she knows she'd hear if something changed, so why has this Finn been kept such a secret?

Nodding, she urges Rachel to speak some more.

The younger girl thinks for a second, wondering whether it would be wise to tell Miss Shelby everything, to finally have someone who she doesn't have to hide things from, but Blaine could suffer if she tells Papa about the boxing club, and she doesn't want anything to happen to her brother. So she sticks with the story Papa was given. "He saved us from being mugged – he's a hero. Why can't Papa just let me be friends with him?"

"How old is this man, Rachel?" she finds herself questioning, "and how long did you spend with him?"

"We just talked for an hour or so…And he's – he's," he hesitates, "twenty five…"

"Twenty five?!"

"What's wrong with that?"

"You're seventeen years old!" Rachel flinches as she shouts, making the woman instantly regret her tone. She gently hugs Rachel's body, a hand running through her silky hair, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout. It's just… he's so much older than you – I can understand why your Father was concerned. While that's no reason to – to hit you, that man is a lot older."

She rolls her eyes, "why does that matter?"

"You should be with someone your own age."

"Be with?" she gapes at the assumption, "as in date? I don't… I don't want to date Finn." Rachel pulls back, her eyes questioning as she looks to Miss Shelby – did she speak about him as though she had feelings for him? Because she… she doesn't. He just, he kind of draws her in, with his – his _Finn_ess and his life. But that surely doesn't equal feelings.

Besides, that would be completely impossible, especially after her Papa's response to her spending merely one hour with him.

Miss Shelby nods, "good."

Rachel can tell that she wants to say more, but she's already mentally worn from just admitting to Miss Shelby the truth of last night, and the mention of Finn is making her feel sad, remembering how he'd acted yesterday. Is he better now? Did her words have any impact on him? The strong urge to see him again grows; ready to burst out of her. But she stays quiet, looking up at Miss Shelby, who herself is lost in her thoughts.

Peering down, she catches Rachel's gaze on her. She smiles gently, her eyes flickering to the bruise once more, "come on, you need to have your breakfast. And then, maybe we could cut some subjects short today?" Rachel nods at this, "besides, I need to talk to someone."

They stand together, Miss Shelby's arms still around Rachel as they head to the dining room.

* * *

"You're quiet."

"What?" Blaine's head snaps in the direction of Kurt briefly, before it slowly returns to the road, "oh, yeah." At this, Kurt frowns slightly, not having seen Blaine so distracted since the whole arrangement with Quinn, said arrangement that makes him feel sick to his stomach thinking about. But now, it seems worse, much worse, and he wants to get to the bottom of it, so that he can have his cheery and relaxed Blaine back.

He leans forward in his chair, hand slowly grasping around Blaine's thigh, "what's wrong, Blaine?"

The other man tenses, his grip on the steering wheel steel tight.

A sigh escapes his lips, and their eyes meet, his own urging Blaine to control his temper and just tell him what the problem is. "Come on, you can tell me." He gently rubs the hand that is on Blaine's thigh, thumb circling the inside. And he then watches as Blaine's entire body slumps, all his anger leaving, the only thing remaining being sadness.

"It's Rachel."

By Blaine's behaviour that day and the tone he's using now, Kurt knows that this isn't going to be good, far from it actually. And worry soars through him over his friend. "What's wrong with Rachel?" he questions immediately, shuffling forward in his seat, his eyes dead set on Blaine. Another sigh escapes the man.

"This morning," he says, "when I went to check on her and see if she was still sick… she had a bruise on her face."

"A _bruise_? How did she get that?"

"Exactly! She won't tell me. She says that she fell." He rolls his eyes at the statement, "there's no way that she could have fallen and done that. Which only leaves one possibility." His grip tightens once more, his teeth gritting together.

Kurt feels his stomach sink at the thought, "you mean somebody else did it?"

The car slows at a stoplight, and Blaine finally takes his eyes off the road to meet Kurt's. He doesn't bother trying to hide the tears brimming in the large, brown pools. "Somebody hurt her, Kurt. And the worst thing is that she won't tell me who did it."

"Why won't she tell you?" he asks, shocked. Blaine and Rachel barely ever keep things from one another, and he knows that her doing so must be killing him, especially when it's something like _this_. And he can't help thinking, who would hit Rachel? Okay, he admits it; there are some times when he's considered gagging her though that's only because the girl just does _not_ seem to have an off button. But, to physically _strike_ her? That's completely out of the question and wrong.

Blaine shakes his head, before moving the car forward again. He then releases his grip on the wheel momentarily to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. He feels his heart sink at the sight: he cares so much for his sister. With a sad smile, he rubs Blaine's arm softly in an attempt to make him feel slightly better. Not much changes, though at least his muscles relax under his caress. Though, as they drive, he lets out a series of wistful sighs.

"I'm sure she'll tell you when she's ready," Kurt offers. He doesn't want Blaine to push Rachel for an answer, as that could only cause further distress for her if the reason for the bruise is what Blaine thinks.

"It's not that…well, it is kind of that, but just, everything in my life seems to just be falling apart…"

He purses his lips, "well, so much to us."

Blaine gives out a wry smile, "not us. But _everything_ else. I can't go to boxing anymore, I am being forced to marry a person who I could never love, my relationship with my Father is quickly deteriorating and now, my own sister is hurt and she won't tell me why." His expression becomes downcast, those sad eyes tugging at Kurt's heart, "I just feel… I don't know, like everything is wrong." On their street, he slows the car against the sidewalk, but neither makes an effort to leave. And instead, their bodies turn to one another, Blaine sliding his hand around Kurt's.

"Go on," Kurt gently pushes.

He feels himself shrug, hot tears already rising. "I can't live like this, Kurt. There's something better out there, better than being Quinn's husband, than taking over my Father's business. I'm just like his _puppet_, doing what he makes me, what he expects of me.

"And I don't have the energy to be that person any more. I want to be _me_." A wobbly smile rises on his lips, "I want to be able to be with the man that I love, to _do_ what I want, and to not have to hide myself behind some stupid marriage." Then, he sighs once more, resigning himself to what he knows will be his future, "I just wish that things were easier."

"Hey," Kurt squeezes his hand, "everything will be fine. Just you see."

His reluctance to believe shows through easily. "How?"

"Things will work themselves out." He pats Blaine's knee, "and there's a silver lining to every cloud, okay? You just have to find it. So, what'd you say? Keep looking for it with me?"

Blaine's eyes meet his, smiling back at him and, eventually, one grows on his lips too. "Okay," he whispers, fingers entwining with Kurt's.

* * *

After her studies, she finds herself back in the living room, trying to force herself out of boredom, but nothing is working. Blaine had arrived from work over an hour ago; Kurt in tow, though she's done her best to avoid them, knowing that the two together would probably be worse. She doesn't doubt that they'd try to get the truth from her again, and she just isn't ready to tell anyone else.

She's heading to go back to her bedroom when she hears the voices from her Papa's study and she stops, turning on the spot to follow them. The only time she hears shouting like that is when Blaine's in there, and he's in his room. A deep frown grows on her lips. Is that… Miss Shelby's voice?

Rachel nears the door, gingerly pressing her ear to the cold oak.

"…it was completely irresponsible and wrong to do that to her. You're supposed to be her Father – you're supposed to be the one protecting her!"

"This doesn't concern you, Shelby," he dismisses her words.

"_Of course_ it concerns me. I'm her mother!"

It feels like a kick to the stomach, when she's already down, and her world goes fuzzy for a few seconds. Rachel takes a step back from the door, staring at it with a completely shocked expression, mouth hanging open. She questions whether she heard that right, because surely it can't be true. Miss Shelby? Her _mother_?

She closes her eyes, shaking her head. No, this can't be true. Her mother died when she was three years old. This can't be true.

They're still shouting, but she can barely make out what's being said, her brain in a haze. The shock in her system numbs everything, so much that she's sure she's going to pass out, her entire body shaky. She's moving away from the office, the path in front of her blurry as it moves and distorts around her.

"_Rachel?"_

She blinks, finding Blaine in front of her, a frown firmly placed on his face.

All she can do is throw herself into his arms, beginning to softly cry. That's all she's good for lately.

* * *

**I apologise for the lack of Finn in this chapter, but I'm almost finished with the next one and he's in there a lot more** :)

**Please review**


	9. IX

**So Finn's back! Anyone else miss him? :)**

**Thank you again for the wonderful reviews/favourites/followers on this story. And a big thank you to Lucy for beta'ing.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

He continues to whisper soothing things to his sister, a hand delicately rubbing on back as she cries and talks, and then cries some more. Blaine can't believe what he's hearing. Rachel overheard Shelby say that she was the girl's mother, and obviously that's left his sister distressed, even more so than she was already that morning. It's taken him a good hour to get her to this state, where she's only crying softly, rather than those sobs that wracked her whole body. He thinks that maybe too much all at once took a toll on her, and she just caved under the weight of it all.

"W-why didn't they tell me?" she mumbles into his shirt, fingers clutching the cotton with a desperate grip. His eyes move to Kurt, who's sat on the other side of Rachel, his hand gently patting her arm, though it seems to have little effect on the girl.

Her question lingers in the air, no one knowing quite what to say to her. Blaine's head is spinning with his own questions, but he saves them for another day. "I'm sure there's a good reason," he finally tells her.

"A good reason to lie to me my _entire life_?" she cries out dramatically, surfacing from Blaine's chest for a moment before she dives back in again. "And it means that I'm… I'm not your real sister."

"What're you talking about?"

"Because we have different moms." Her face scrunches up with more tears.

Blaine's arms hold her close to him, a hand cradling her head as she cries, "hey, come on, that's silly. We still have the same dad." He smiles down at her, even though she can't see it, "and besides, you'll always be my little sister, okay? Nothing is _ever_ going to change that."

A pause. Then a sniffle. "Promise?"

His voice becomes more serious, still holding the gentle tone. "I promise." Rachel's grip on him tightens, "hey, are you trying to squeeze me to death?"

For once, she doesn't have anything to say, though seems content enough at just lying in his arms. And Blaine's happy to let her do so, especially since she's no longer crying, or he hopes she isn't. One of the worst things is seeing his sister cry - he'll do anything to prevent that.

Peering over the top of Rachel's head - admittedly, it's kind of nice to have someone smaller than him –, he attempts a smile in Kurt's direction, though his attention is dragged away when Rachel shifts in his arms, tilting her head up to look at him. Blaine has to suppress a chuckle at her disarrayed hair and pouty, pink face. "Do you think…" she starts, her voice not the strong sound that he's grown used to; and instead she's almost _whispering_, "do you think that I should tell them, that I know?" Her gaze drops, "I don't want her to treat me any differently. What if she didn't want me, and that's why nobody told me?"

"If she didn't want you then why would she be here?" He says.

Rachel slowly shakes her head – she doesn't want to even begin to think about this, any of this. Up until that day, she'd been told that her mother was another woman, one who she could barely remember. But Miss Shelby has been there for her (she thinks about the way she'd held her as she cried yesterday, and can't stop that longing feeling to be held like that again), and she's not going anywhere either. It still doesn't explain much, but she's not so sure whether she's ready for any more, not today anyway.

The question now though, is what she does next. She's just had a major spanner thrown in the cogs of her life, and it's as though everything stopped turning. Now it's time to get them moving again. The fear of rejection from Miss Sh – _her mother_ looms over her mind as she considers explaining to her what she'd heard, and another thing is that she obviously isn't supposed to know. Perhaps they were going to tell her when she was older and able to understand more, she tries to convince herself, and it doesn't work. At least it was worth a try.

Blaine looks down at her as she thinks, hugging her body once more in hopes that it'll make her feel the slightest bit better. "You just need to calm down," he tells her, "so that you can think straight. Why don't you take a nap? You've got to be tired."

He frowns as his sister slowly nods her head, the sight of her bruise once again making him angry/curious, and he's surprised when she immediately lies down on his bed, rather than going to her own room. So much for him and Kurt having some time together. But, he thinks, Rachel needs his support now, in such an important time as this. The news had come as a shock to him too, but she'd taken it harder than him, naturally. He knows that the only thing that's going to fix this is patience, time and support, all of which he can provide to his sister.

His hand gently rubs at her back as she closes her eyes, letting the exhaustion finally put her to sleep.

* * *

Finn practically pummels into the bag, throwing everything into his training and losing himself in the activity. When he's working like this, he is usually focused, tunnel minded, and that's the way it should be, that's how you win fights.

Today, however, he can't stop his thoughts from wandering to a certain brunette. It shouldn't feel as though an eternity has passed since he saw her (in reality it's been a mere _week_) but it does, and he kind of hates that. What she'd said to him – she was _right_. He has been torturing himself all these years and making no effort to stop that. It's sort of funny that he's been telling her that she's too young and inexperienced in the world, when after knowing him for a few weeks she can see what his real problems are, and she knows how to solve them. If only he'd had her around her it happened; then maybe he wouldn't have fallen into this depressing cycle, or start pushing people away.

He sighs, realizing that his motions have slowed and his training eventually comes to a halt. He grabs his towel from the bench nearby and drags it over his damp face, relishing in the momentary relief that it brings.

As he drags it back down, letting it hang limp from his fingers, a new figure appears in his line of sight, one that he hasn't seen for weeks. "Blaine?" he calls out in surprise, his forehead creasing. One thing that he's sure of is that Blaine just shouldn't be here, not anymore, so why is he? What if he wants to try and join again? Will would _never_ give the kid a second chance, and Finn doesn't want to be the one to have to tell him that.

Blaine steps closer, a tiny, yet hopeful, smile growing on his lips. "Hey Finn," he greets, head bowing slightly. His eyes cast over to the punch bag beside them, a tinge of sadness and longing there, "how're you?"

Does he answer honestly or…? He's better than he has been, in a long, long time, but it's still not exactly _good_ in any sense. "Hm, I'm okay," he shrugs off the question, about to ask Blaine to same thing when he's cut short.

"It's Rachel's birthday soon."

His ears perk up at the sound of Rachel, and at the same time his heart seems to jump about in his chest too. "It is?" he can't help that half smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth.

He nods, "next Friday." Slowly, he begins to pace around the room, eyes moving around, "I think – I think she'd like to see you." Blaine smiles wryly, "you always seem to put a smile on her face." Though his words make Finn initially happy, he is getting a bad vibe from Blaine and the way that he's speaking, like Rachel hasn't smiled in a long time…

"Is everything okay? With Rachel?" he finds himself asking, needing to know that it is. Rachel, as he'd said before, is young, innocent, and he just doesn't want her having to face any troubles like he has. He doesn't think that it'll be a problem, since she lives in the best neighborhood in the city and she hasn't really grown up with many difficulties. Except, when he thinks about it, something seemed so _off_ about her Father – Finn didn't like him one bit.

Blaine hesitates, "she just – she's not had the best few weeks." An overwhelming urge to protect her from all the bad things in the world consumes Finn. He could succeed where he'd failed before. Blaine slowly lifts his gaze up to meet Finn's, "do you think you could make it? To her party?"

His face lifts in surprise, "you're inviting me?"

"Well," he shrugs, "like I said, it makes Rachel happy when she sees you, and I can't really think of any other way to make that happen without the party…"

"Yeah, I'm sure your Father won't be too fond of seeing me." He says dryly, knowing full well that Mr Anderson is the type of man that is much too preoccupied with the class system and keeping everything 'pure'.

Rather than focus on that side of it, Blaine smiles, "does that mean you'll come?"

"I – uh," he pulls a face, not knowing exactly what to say. He wants to see Rachel, of course he does, but he's not sure if he's ready to face the intense onset of emotions that goes hand in hand with their meetings. He drags a hand through his thick, messy hair, keeping his gaze to the floor. "I don't know."

He doesn't see the ways Blaine's expressions falls, the look he wears resembling that of a sad puppy.

"You don't have to," he almost mumbles, "I – never mind." Then, he sighs, "I shouldn't have come, you're obviously busy… I'll let myself out." Finn opens his mouth to speak, but no words follow, leaving Blaine to slowly step from the room, not before adding, "it was good seeing you again."

The man stares at the empty doorway, an equal emptiness filling his body. He should have said yes! What's the worst that could come from seeing Rachel once more? It's not like their paths are likely to cross again, so he shouldn't have to worry about any consequences, but he does. He can't help it. Every time he's with her, there are so many feelings inside him, so many that he just feels overwhelmed and, as such, wants to escape them. But it's pretty hard to escape those feelings when they're so persistent – much like Rachel herself, he thinks with a wry smile.

Above all those feelings, being with her makes him feel good, important, even when in his heart he knows that he's neither of those things. Yet, selfishly, he wants to feel them again and again, and that's not good. He can't use Rachel to give him that. She deserves so much better.

Still, he thinks that maybe not seeing her again is yet another thing that he's going to fail at.

* * *

She's in the midst of sleep when movement on the bed startles her awake, her unfocused eyes scanning around the room until they fall upon a grinning Blaine. She can't help but smile back, slowly sitting up in bed and stretching the tiredness from her limbs. The bed shifts again as he pulls himself closer to her, his body spread out next to hers.

"Happy birthday," he says in almost a sing song voice, eyes shining brightly.

Rachel smiles at the reminder of what today is, her excitement growing. Turning, she looks up to Blaine, "morning, Blaine."

He beams in reply, "how is my favorite little sister on this momentous day?"

She scoffs, "I'm your _only_ little sister."

"And I couldn't have asked for a better one," he says cheerfully, his enthusiasm practically blinding.

"You're happy today," she notes, thinking that it's to do with something other than it being her birthday, although that's obviously a very important part too. Still, when Blaine looks so content and joyful, there's usual only one reason behind it. "Kurt?" She asks with a knowing smile.

"What about him?"

"You _know_ what," she says, raising an eyebrow at him. All he does is bow his head and try to prevent the blush from creeping onto his cheeks. He fails. It barely takes him two seconds the change the subject. "_Anyway_, how are you? You're happy yourself, right?"

Rachel frowns at the odd question, "er, yeah."

"It's just," he hesitates, "these past few weeks… you've been kind of mellow – you know, ever since you found out about… about Shelby." At this, she feels her mood plummet, and she just wishes that Blaine could stop bringing it up, since every time he does she's clouded with worries. The woman still has no idea of what Rachel had overheard, the_ life - changing _news, and the only people who do know are Kurt and Blaine. Though they're trying to help as much as they can, it doesn't really satisfy her need to know what had happened, how it all happened. Had her Papa had an affair with Miss Shelby? She supposes that she'll never know, unless of course she asks Miss Shelby herself, and Rachel is nowhere near ready for that conversation. Processing the news of it is still mentally wearing for her and she doesn't need more stress on top of that.

Besides, today ought to be a day without all of them worries looming over her. It's her eighteenth birthday, and as such, she needs to have a good time, spent with her loved family and friends.

Eyes meeting with Blaine's, she forces a smile onto her lips, "there's no need to worry, I'm fine Blaine. Totally, completely happy."

Her brother looks less than convinced, but he knows that he shouldn't question her words, seeing as she's been slightly _over_emotional lately, and he doesn't want to set her off. "Good," he says softly, groaning dramatically as he pulls himself into a sitting position, "now come on, you've got presents downstairs, and then there's your party!"

She pulls a face, not particularly excited at the prospect of a long, boring party. Still, she'll be the center of attention, and Rachel would never pass that offer up, so it won't be _so_ bad. With a smile, she jumps out of bed alongside Blaine, wondering what the day will possess for her.

* * *

Blaine's lingers by Kurt's side the entire night, almost as if the two are joined by the hip, not that either are complaining, and no one is suspicious of anything, so he continues to linger, and sometimes "accidentally" brushes his hand against Kurt's own soft one. Eventually, he grows bored of the limited contact and starts to send a smouldering gaze in the direction of Kurt, who turns, as if he can feel it burning into his skin. He tries to hide the smirk that threatens to grow on his lips.

He tilts his head, gesturing for Kurt to follow him up the stairs, before quickly excusing himself from the group and going himself. There's a small room along the hallway, one which is never used, and so poses as the perfect place.

The minute Kurt enters the door after him, he practically pounces on him, his hands frantically roaming into the suit that adorns Kurt's slim body. It's a mash of mouths and moans as they savor the little alone time they have together, before somebody realizes that they're no longer at the party. And, if anyone, he'd guess that it would be Rachel. She just always seems to pop up at the most inopportune moments, the moments where he wants Kurt the _most_.

Slipping his tongue through Kurt's parted lips, he tries to hold in a groan as a hand reaches down to brush over the bulge in his pants. Blaine purrs against Kurt's mouth, lips twisting into a smile despite himself, and their bodies move closer together, almost as one.

They're so lost in the feel of each other that they don't hear the door open, but they _do_ hear the voice cry out a surprised, "oh!"

The pair tears away from one another in an instant, their eyes widening and pulses racing at the sight of Quinn staring back at them, mouth agape. If Blaine thought that he'd been scared when Rachel had found out, that feeling is nothing compared to _this_. He feels as though he can't breathe. He knows the Fabrays; their family will not be too fond of hearing that their future son in law is in fact gay, and their daughter found him kissing another man.

"Quinn," he hears himself say, voice sounding nothing like his own, "I – I can explain. It wasn't what it looked like." Although, yes, it was _exactly_ what it looked like.

It's an extremely tense moment, him and Kurt on one side, and Quinn on the other. The most worrying thing is that she doesn't look shocked – well, maybe a little bit – but her expression is more… calm, calculated, and Blaine fears what is going on inside her head. She's never had that look on her face unless she's thinking of something to ultimately bring his, and Kurt's, downfall.

"Really?" she gives him this look, and raises her eyebrow, "I'm not stupid, Blaine. And I always knew that there was something…odd about the two of you – this explains a lot, actually."

"I – " The rest of the sentence dies in his throat, leaving him to stare at her aimlessly, because _how_ is he supposed to explain this? It's pretty obvious that his and Kurt's relationship is not platonic, especially when she's just found them in the middle of a pretty intense make-out session and, like she'd said, she isn't stupid. She is a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them. But now she knows a secret that could ruin his whole life. And that terrifies him.

Thankfully, Kurt seems to have the ability to speak when he doesn't, and steps forward, addressing the woman in a pleading voice, "please, you can't tell anyone. You _know_ what will happen if they find out." His face cracks, showing a hint of desperation, and Blaine feels his heart clench at the sight.

She purses her pale lips together, eyes still moving around slowly. Quinn knows that she's in control of the situation, and she's taking advantage of that, basking in the feeling of being able to do whatever she wants. Blaine looks down, at his shaking hands, and waits with baited breath for the woman to say something.

He expects a terrible announcement, like how she's going to tell their Fathers, or something along those lines – in which their secret is unveiled for all to see, and their lives are over.

But the next few words aren't anything like that. Far from it.

"I won't tell anyone."

"_What_?" he and Kurt balk. Apparently Kurt had shared the same mind set as him prior to her last statement, and is just as shocked as he is. When has Quinn ever been nice? She usually only ever does something if there's a reward in it for her, and he realizes, with further fear, that what she wants is most probably about to follow.

"I won't tell our Fathers about… this, whatever it is," she scrunches up her nose, "_but_." Quinn pauses, gaze burning into his skin, "you still have to marry me, Blaine. And it's going to be a good marriage – you're going to work, and I'll stay home and take care of the house, and our future children. No one will know, as long as you commit to this marriage."

For a moment, he feels a growing sympathy for the woman; she's so in need of a good, steady marriage – though he doesn't think that that can ever occur without true love, but he'll keep his mouth shut before she decides to slip their secret out – that she's willing to let him continue to be with Kurt, as long as there's an illusion of them being happy together.

She continues when the silence in the room becomes too much, "you'd make a good husband. And if you do that, become my husband, then no one has to know that this happened and it can continue to happen." Standing stiffly, she shifts her gaze from him to Kurt, where her pupils narrow, though she says no more.

"Quinn, I – " Once more, he just doesn't know what to say. The choice is obvious – be discovered, or continue to live a lie, and as much as he hates keeping his love a secret, it will be detrimental for the both of them if it was ever revealed. Blaine turns ever so slightly, finding Kurt with a similar expression to his. Grim.

"You know what's at stake," she insists, crossing her arms defensively, "and you should be glad that I'm not telling my Father about this… this _thing_ that you have with him right now, but I also know what I want. I'll do anything to get it. My Father thinks that I love you." Blaine's head perks up, eyes widening ever so slightly, until she adds, "I don't. Not _you_, anyway. But I have to please him, like any daughter should, and this wedding, this marriage, has to be perfect. At least, to his eyes."

Slowly, she walks begins to turn, "that's your ultimatum. And you have until tomorrow to make up your mind." Her voice is serious, to the point "make the right decision, Blaine." And then she's out of the room, leaving a thick air behind her. Blaine's shoulders slump, along with his entire body.

"I can't believe that just happened," he hears Kurt mumble, the fear trembling his voice. "We have to be more careful, Blaine." With a gentle touch, he reaches out for Blaine's arm, "even if it means seeing each other less, we have to hide this better. I can't… I can't let anyone else know, or we'll have to pay the price." Blaine is listening; he is, but his expression remains stoic, empty. "Blaine?"

He waves a hand in front of his face. "Blaine?"

The man's focus snaps back, and he looks to Kurt, the sadness drowning in his eyes almost too much to handle for the latter. "Hey, we'll get through this, it's fine. I mean, when Rachel found out – "

"But she isn't Rachel_, is she_?" he snaps back, "she's not as understanding as Rachel, and she can use this against me, against _us_, for the rest of our lives."

"It's better than the other option," Kurt replies stiffly, unable to even bring himself to say it. His grip on Blaine's arm grows stronger, pulling him nearer.

Blaine shrugs it off, moving away from him, and then beginning to pace. He mumbles to himself furiously, things about being unable to cope with this, unable to accept it. He doesn't want to be stuck in a loveless marriage – and Quinn can't want that either, but she's doing it to please her Father. He couldn't care less about pleasing _his_ Father.

Yet looking at Kurt, he knows that there's only one option to take, to keep them _both_ safe. Because, he can handle these things happening to him, but to think of them happening to Kurt? It's _unbearable_.

Kurt senses his distress, moving back near him despite Blaine wanting to push him away, as though that's a way to keep him safe. "We can get through this," he says, "sacrifices have to be made, we both knew that. We both knew that we'd have to get married one day, and it couldn't be with each other." He finally sees the tears in Blaine's eyes, wanting nothing more than to wipe each one away, along with the pain that joins them.

Blaine pulls a pained face, "I can't marry her Kurt, I just can't. She's not you. I don't love her."

"I know," he whispers, "of course I know, and she doesn't love you, so really – "

"Don't say that you're okay with this," he says, "please don't say that."

He doesn't. Instead, he leans forward and presses his lips to Blaine's forehead, kissing away the worry lines. "You know that, no matter what, I'll always love you and be there for you." Beneath him, Blaine is quiet, his tears drying out as a thoughtful expression usurps the sadness.

"Kurt," he says shakily, "I have an idea. And it's kind of crazy, but it's an idea."

Stepping back, he gives Blaine a confused stare.

* * *

She finds that, despite the party being for her, it gets boring pretty quickly, being much like the one Blaine had a few weeks ago. It also makes her realize just how little people she has that she can call friends in this world. There's Blaine, and Kurt, obviously. And she could go as far as saying that Sam is a friend, maybe even Jesse – though she barely sees him since he left to study all the way across the country.

It's just… she's kind of lonely, when she thinks about it. Her lack of female friends just leaves her longing for something more, for someone who can share things with, the things that she doesn't want Blaine knowing. He's her brother, and she loves him, but he wouldn't be interested in hearing her talk about certain things, like Finn for instance. After her heart to heart with Miss Shelby, she can't seem to get the man off her mind, not that he wasn't a prominent part in it anyway, and as always his memory followers her around. She misses him more than she's ever missed anybody before – the feeling of longing is so strong that it actually scares her sometimes. But she can't help how she feels, and she just wishes that there was _somebody_ that she could talk to about it.

Rachel finds herself slowly returning to her room, if only to save a few minutes to herself while the party goes on without her. It's not like anything interesting is going to happen while she's gone anyway. She breathes a sigh of relief as she opens the doors out onto her small balcony, the fresh air soaring through her lungs and over her pink cheeks. A real smile finally crawls onto her lips, and she stares out into the night, her eyes drawn upwards to the moon hanging in the darkness.

She stays like that for a while, just admiring the beauty of it, in all its natural magnificence, as it just draws her in easily.

It's only when she hears a noise below her that she snaps from her trance, peering over to see what the source of said disruption is, and trying her best not to panic. Then her eyes focus on the large shape, a bright smile following – maybe as bright as the moon itself. "Finn!" she calls down, aware to keep her voice quiet in case anyone else could hear. Her Papa would surely not be reasonable if he knew that she was with Finn once more, and she doesn't want him ever finding out. But then the damper of that thought is instantly thrown away when she catches sight of Finn again, craning his neck to stare up at her. "What are you doing here?" Rachel hears herself asking. Yet, at the same time, she doesn't care for the reason. All that matters is that he's here, with her, and she feels happy once more.

"It's your birthday," he says, not sounding quite so sure why he's there himself.

"It is."

"Then," he pauses, "Happy birthday." His voice is soft, softer than she's ever heard it before, and so gentle, caring. It makes her heart swoon deliriously.

Her smile grows, "thank you Finn." Rachel bites her lip, "is that all?"

The hesitance sweeps across his features, dragging them lower into a frown. Finn struggles with the words for a moment, internally debating, before, "yeah, that's… that's it." Her face drops too, disappointment starting to bubble; she could've sworn that he had another reason to be here, and now he's just going to leave it at that? While she's happy to see him again, his confusing ways seem to always reign supreme.

He takes a step back, as if going to leave, and so does she, turning so that she doesn't have to see him go, _again_. But then she doesn't expect to hear more noises, and what sounds like _grunting_. And suddenly some hands fall down on her shoulders, causing the young girl to scream out her shock. She practically jumps on the spot, spinning to find that it's Finn who's behind her. Her mouth drops open, "did you just _climb_ the ba –"

Her words are cut short the second his lips connect with hers, and all thoughts flood from her mind. When she finally does regain them, the first thing is how _soft_ his lips are against hers, how gentle and delicate, like he's worshipping every inch of hers. And, without realizing, she's kissing him back, in comparison pushing feverishly at his own lips. Finn's hands gently rise to her hips, inching their bodies closer together, and she practically melts into him. The moment feels magical, like one of the many that she'd read in her books but this, the feeling that soars through every fibre of her body, it's so much more intense than she could have ever imagined.

And she wants _more_.

Rachel's hand slowly rise to either side of his face, his stubble rough beneath her skin, in contrast to his feather soft kisses. Feeling weak from each second that it progresses, she lets his hands keep her steady, and tries to wipe the dizzy feeling from her mind. But she just can't. Finn is _kissing_ her.

She feels his lips slowly pull from hers, instantly missing the warmth of Finn. Opening her eyes (having not realized that she'd even closed them), she finds herself mere inches from Finn's, staring into the hazel globes as though in a trance. He's doing much the same, hands still wrapped around her slender waist, his touch a barely there caress against her, like he's afraid to put everything into it.

"Happy birthday," he wishes her once more, this time the words drowned with emotion.

After a few seconds, she manages a breathless smile. "Thank you, Finn." She hears her voice whisper back. Like him, her hands are practically glued to his face, resting beneath his strong jaw now, and she doesn't want to ever let go. But it's not her decision. A flash of something appears in Finn's expression and he tugs away.

"I should go," he mumbles and, despite not wanting him to, she nods her head slowly. "I'll see you soon," Finn adds, immediately closing his eyes with regret spread all over his face. He didn't mean to say that, she thinks while getting overwhelmed in sadness. Did he not just feel everything that she had? The kiss was amazing, _exciting_, like a thousand explosions at once, or was it just her who felt that way? Oh no. What if it _was_ just her?

She turns, looking into her room so that she doesn't have to look at Finn and see that look on his face – she doesn't want him to regret this. But she fears that that's the instance.

Still, she can feel the ghost of his lips against hers, and knows that she'll never forget this kiss, her first kiss.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	10. X

**Update day! I got a little emotional writing some of this - I don't know what's wrong with me haha. As usual, thank you for reviewing and just generally being amazing!**

**Thank you to Lucy, the most wonderful beta in all the lands.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

She waits day after day, hoping that, one of those days, she'll see him again, but he never comes. And each time he doesn't come she finds herself becoming more disappointed. It's the kiss – it must be the reason. But _he_ initiated it, so she just doesn't understand why all of a sudden he's just ignoring her. Did she do something wrong? Rachel frowns at this; she didn't think that she'd done anything wrong. The kiss had been amazing, and she thought that Finn felt the same, but then this shouldn't be happening if that was the case.

Rachel lets out a wistful sigh, sitting on her bed and trying to focus on the book in her hand. It certainly doesn't help when a kissing scene begins with the protagonist and, as she reads the words, her heart becomes heavier and heavier, while her thoughts begin to move in Finn's direction again. Really, why is everything so _complicated_?

She just wants him to come back. And yes, she wants to kiss him again, to relive the thrilling feeling that doing so brought. Rachel is already addicted to those kisses, and there's only been _one_.

Frustrated, she throws the book from her hands and then herself back into her pillows, hair fanning out behind her. At first a week had passed, and then another. Now, nearly a month later, there's _still_ no sign of Finn returning at all. "I'll see you soon," she mimics the last words he'd said to her, scoffing. What is his definition of soon? Because _surely_ that would entail him seeing her quicker than this. Admittedly, she could tell that he were hesitant after the kiss, confused even, but that doesn't mean that he has to avoid her because of it. But he knows that avoiding her is something he can do – the easiest thing – as they live so far apart, and the likelihood of her going to the boxing club by herself to confront him is slim.

He knows exactly what he's doing, she thinks with slight annoyance. And he just can't expect her to forget about this, can he? All the time spent acting like she's too young, too innocent were thrown out of the window the second he decided to kiss her. It means so many things, first and fore mostly that he is haboring some kind of feeling for her, a feeling that he's trying to suppress by ignoring her.

Rachel's jaw clenches tightly as she thinks further. She's not going to let Finn carry on doing this. Things changed the moment he _chose_ to kiss her, and now there's no running, no hiding.

She won't let him.

Now all she needs to do is find him. It'll be simple enough, of course – he practically _lives_ in that boxing club, so she has no doubts that he's there, but the large dilemma is how to get there. Blaine is at Kurt's house, and she knows that he won't want to leave in order to take her across town. Rachel sighs, biting her lower lip in thought.

For a moment, she almost considers going herself, but quickly talks herself out of it. If Papa found out he'd throw a fit, and she didn't exactly feel comfortable going there _alone_.

So she waits.

With her spare time, she heads downstairs to find something to do, not wanting to just waste the minutes away. On the way, she passes her Papa, who sweeps past the girl without so much as one word. He's been like that, unable to even look her in the eye properly, since he'd hit her. Rachel tries to push the unsettling feeling of the memory away, and slips into the silent living room.

The longer she's there, thinking to herself about the way that Finn had acted – his back and forth between feelings for her – she becomes even more annoyed. Generally, she's a forgiving person, and she can see the good in so many people but _this_, this is low. For someone who prides himself on being so mature, a _man_, Finn has a strange way of showing said maturity. What kind of man runs away from something like this?

Rachel tries to kill the time, singing a few songs gently to herself, but even that seems bore her eventually, and she stops, once again wishing that she were able to go see Finn by herself, rather than waiting to be escorted there by her brother.

Eventually though, Blaine graces her with his presence. She's on her feet within seconds, moving up to him, "great, you're here!"

He eyes her slowly, then says, "did you want me for something?"

She puts on an award winning smile, from ear to ear, and gently takes hold of his hand. "_Blaine_," she drawls, smile widening, if possible, "you're not busy now, are you?"

"Well, I have some stuff to do," he says uncomfortably, not letting her make eye contact. Weird, she thinks with a slight frown; but lately he's been acting as such – Kurt too – and she's yet to figure out why their behaviour has become so odd. They're a little distant, and slightly more secretive, and if there's one thing that Rachel hates, it's knowing that people are keeping something from her. But now isn't the time to think about that. Besides, asking him will probably irritate Blaine, and he's her only sure fire way of getting to Finn to confront the man.

Blaine watches her expression fall, and sighs "what did you want?"

The smile happily springs back onto her face. "Well," she begins, moving back and forth on the balls of her feet, "I need you to take me somewhere."

He rubs a hand over his tired face, "now?"

She turns on the large, pleading eyes. "Blaine, please, there's no other way that I can get there without you going with me." Rachel hates that she's given so little freedom in a city that she's been in all her life. She's eighteen years old, and she can barely go outside without her brother watching over her. And soon enough Blaine will be married and won't be able to do that; what does that mean for her?

Shaking that thought from her mind, she increases the size of her pout, and slowly notices the cracks in Blaine's armor beginning to show. "Where do you want to go?" he relents.

Rachel tries not to celebrate her triumph too early, and remains calm and collected as she says, or more whispers (because if anyone ever finds out about the boxing club, it'll surely mean disaster for her and Blaine – and possibly Kurt, too). "I need to – to see Finn."

His thick eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, "Why would you want to see him?"

The hesitation that follows makes him ask more strongly, "_Rachel_?

She squirms under his questioning gaze, wondering whether it's right to tell him what had happened between her and Finn. Despite them being close, he occasionally goes into his 'big brother' mind set, and his overprotectiveness can be frustrating. But then again, if she doesn't tell him, and he finds out another way, he's sure to be upset, isn't he? He's always been the one that she'd confided in. Well, with everything _except_ surrounding Finn. It's as though she thinks not talking about her feelings will somehow make them invisible, not real, because lo – _liking_ Finn Hudson isn't exactly the easiest thing to do.

Rachel frowns, at a loss of what to do, while Blaine's intense glower isn't exactly helping. "I - I… I left something of mine at the club, and I only just remembered!"

Though he doesn't look like he particularly believes her, he gives in rather easily, "okay, okay. We'll go."

She bursts into a smile, hurrying to get her coat tightly wrapped around her, before she practically drags Blaine from the house. It's at freezing temperatures in the city today, a thin layer of snow lining the streets, while a few flakes hover in the air. It's a few days after Christmas, and many people's houses have bright trees shown off by the large windows.

Blaine rubs his hands together as they walk, trying to maintain warmth within them, while hers are insulated with some white gloves. She sticks to his side, the two making the usual way toward the club, each second that passes making her heart beat faster and faster.

But when they finally get there, Finn's nowhere to be found. It's not exactly like he'd be good at blending in either, seeing as he towers over pretty much everyone. Rachel tries to hide her disappointment, but they came _all_ this way and he's not even there. He must be with family, she rationalizes, for the holiday season. Strangely, it's hard to imagine Finn with family, friends – he's such a secluded person, one who never mentioned anything outside of boxing. The only time she'd ever heard anything about a relationship he had was with Amie, and that'd taken a lot of persuasion on her part.

While Blaine is looking for her cardigan, which she told him she'd left somewhere around the club, she asks Will where Finn is. The man eyes her with slightly annoyance, before saying that he's at his apartment.

"And where's that?" she asks instantly, probably being a little more forward than she should be. She's just so close to seeing Finn again, but at the same time he's far away, too. And it's frustrating to be in such a situation.

Will frowns at her, his confusion as to why she wants to know evident. "Today's his day off. He won't want anyone gettin' in the way."

She frowns, "this is extremely important!" She almost stomps her foot, childishly so, after she speaks, determined to not give up the fight and find Finn. Thankfully, she doesn't, and keeps a calm tone to her voice as she _maybe_ lies a little and tells Will that it's a "matter of life and death", along with a batch of fake tears to top it all off. After the tears come, he quickly gives her an address (and the name of the store that he lives right above), and Rachel wipes the tears away, before going to find Blaine.

He's easily spotted in the distance, crouched down to the floor as he searches for her cardigan – she almost feels bad, for having made him look for something that she knows isn't there, but that's all forgotten as she grabs hold of his hand and pulls him away. "Rachel, what are you doing?" he demands to know as his arm as almost dragged from the socket with strength that he didn't know his sister possessed. When she heads toward the door, his confusion grows and he asks again, "Rachel!"

"We're going to see Finn!" she calls back at him simply, still insistent on dragging him the whole way. Will vaguely gave her directions, so she knows where to go; it's just a matter of doing it before her nerves get the better of her and she goes home. But no, she _needs_ to see Finn. She can't bear this anymore, this feeling of not knowing what is going on between them.

"_What_?" She hears Blaine say, digging his feet into the ground which ultimately pulls them both to a sharp halt.

"Blaine," she whines, "we need to go."

He looks at her like she's crazy. "Why do we need to see Finn? I thought you wanted to come here to get your cardigan?" The guilty expression on her face must say it all, because he suddenly his mouth forms into a perfect 'o' and he nods. "I see. "

She shifts uncomfortably, biting her lip, "what?"

After a moment's hesitance, he steps closer to her with a sympathetic smile plastered to his face. "Rachel, it's really cute that you've got a little crush – it's only natural, too. But Finn is a lot older than you, and I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't think he's interested in _that_ way." His hand reaches her back, patting it gently.

Rachel stares at him. He really has _no_ idea. "He kissed me," she blurts out.

"_Excuse me_?"

"That's right!" she yells, "He came to our house and kissed me." She inwardly scoffs; so much for Finn not being interested in her that way. Blaine gapes at her, his shock suddenly shattering the moment and bringing her back to the moment, where she realizes that she'd just told her brother something that she probably shouldn't have. Her hands fly to her mouth, to stop spilling any further secrets, while the two engage in a deep stare.

"H-he kissed you?"

She nods.

Suddenly, he grabs her arm and starts dragging _her_ in the direction that they were just going. Rachel quickly shrugs off his grip, hurrying behind me. "Where does he live?" Blaine barks out, his voice almost scary as he does so.

With Blaine's rush to get there now, their arrival takes no more than a few minutes. A long, narrow corridor leads up to the door, so narrow that she has trouble imagining how Finn even fits inside it with his broad build and height. Blaine moves up first, taking the stairs two at a time, while she's hot on his tail. She jumps back when Blaine immediately starts banging on the door, his jaw clenched. "Blaine, Blaine, stop!" Reaching out, she rests a hand on his arm, but that does nothing to stop his attack on the poor door.

"_I heard you the first time_!" they hear from the other side, and her breath halts at the presence of Finn once more. Mere seconds later the door is tugged wide open, and she breathes in the sight of him with a tiny, hidden smile.

She barely has time to see his reaction for a wild Blaine lunges for him. "You kissed my sister!" he says. Rachel tries to bring him back, since his arms are around Finn's neck, _tightly_ may she add, but there's no use in trying to get him off. Finn, thankfully, has much more experience than Blaine in this field, and he manoeuvres the smaller man to the floor, twisting his arm behind his back and holding him still. To his credit, Blaine puts up a good fight, squirming in the relentless hold. "Let me go!"

"After you've just pulled _that_?" he cries out incredulously.

"Blaine!" she scolds when he tries to hit Finn once more. All anxieties about seeing him again had been thrown out of the window by Blaine's momentary distraction, but now they come back with a vengeance as the pair's eyes meet.

He quickly lets go of Blaine, who she grabs before he can do any further harm – he seems to have calmed down now anyway – and looks up to Finn. "What're you doing here?" he demands to know, running a hand over his worn face.

"I…" She slowly eyes Blaine, not exactly feeling comfortable having this discussion with him observing. "Can I please talk to Finn in private for a minute?"

His face hardens, annoyance clear. She drags him all this way, only to make him leave. "Fine," he mumbles, snatching his arm back from Finn, who looks a little worried that he's going to dive for him again, but he just heads for the door, sending a glare at Rachel before he steps outside.

She turns to Finn, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Rachel?" he asks again, softer, yet the irritation still to his voice.

Rather than look at his face, at _that_ expression, she lets her eyes wander the apartment. It's small, and actually a lot tidier than she thought it'd be, but it's dark too, with only a couple of small windows to let the brightness enter. They move further, zoning in on the furniture this time, and her eyebrows rise in surprise at the Santa suit – alongside red and white hat – lain across the back of the couch.

He notices her direction of gaze, offering an explanation, "I worked in a couple of malls this Christmas. Extra money and stuff." He shrugs, before getting back to the matter at hand, "why're you – "

"You kissed me," she cuts across him, her eyes finally lifting up to stare into his. They stare back in surprise at her loud outburst, while her own become glazed with tears. "You… kissed me, and then you – you _didn't_ come back."

She waits for a reply, for him to say anything, but he just stands there uselessly and stares at the floor, mouth slightly agape. And, the more time that passes, the angrier she becomes at his lack of response. Does he not have _anything_ to say about it? He initiated the kiss, and now he's acting as though it means nothing, when, what she'd felt, it meant _so much_.

A pause. "Finn?" She looks down, whispering, "say something."

So he does.

"It was a mistake."

Her head snaps up, and she feels _sick_, as though someone had just kicked her gut, "w-what?"

Finn's whole body is tense, unwelcoming; all the while he shakes his head slowly. As he speaks, his shoulders rise in a careless shrug. "The kiss," he says, "it shouldn't have happened."

_No_, she thinks, _no no no_. This isn't right. He isn't supposed to say something like that, not when she knows different. "You're lying," she chokes out, trying to ignore the lump in her throat that most definitely brings along with it the tears.

He can barely bring himself to look her in the eyes, a pained expression forming on his features. Why, she doesn't know, but she doesn't like it.

"I mean it," he says lowly, "just forget about the kiss, Rachel."

Her heart plummets to her stomach.

"But… I don't _want_ to…"

How can she forget that it happened? It was her first kiss. Not only that, but it was also amazing, thrilling, and she'd do anything to let it happen again, just to feel that dizzy rush once more.

"Just," he says, closing his eyes, "_please_."

"_Finn_," she tries desperately. She takes a step toward him, fingers managing to brush against his arm for a brief second, before he pulls away from her like the touch scorched his skin.

"Go!" he raises his voice harshly.

"I don't… -"

His eyes narrow, "leave, Rachel."

She drops her shoulders in defeat, her mouthing opening and closing in an attempt to fight his words, but the strength that she needs never comes, and she finds herself accepting it with a slow nod, swallowing the rising lump in her throat. He drags a hand through his hair, eyes swallowed up in sadness when their gazes cross over one another.

She breaks the silence by saying, "you have feelings for me, and you're just too scared to admit it."

"I… I don't." The words sound forced.

"Then why did you kiss me?"

He doesn't respond, his body stiffly turned from her.

"_Fine_," she barks out, "I guess… I'll leave. You won't – you won't _ever_ hear from me again, but that's what you seem to want." She begs herself to hold the tears. If he's going to hide his emotions in front of her, then she can damn well do the same.

With her hand grasped around the cold door handle, she throws a final glance at Finn who remains the same. And then she's out of there, letting all her strength she has left crumble the minute she's away from him, pulling Blaine in for the tightest hug. Initially, he seems angry, but quickly adapts to be more comforting toward his sister.

He leads her out onto the street again, where she mumbles incoherent sentences to him. It takes a while to calm her down, but he does, and they end up sat on the bottom step leading to Finn's apartment, Rachel's head lay gently on his shoulder while she lets out the occasional whimper.

"I should go talk to him."

Her eyes widen, and she gasps out, "no, no, don't do that. Finn won't listen – he's stubborn, and – "

"And I'm not going to let him treat my sister like this," he finishes, "look, you wait here, okay? I'll be quick."

"You're not going to hit him again, are you?" she asks sceptically.

He shakes his head, expression pleading for her to allow him to do this. She doesn't understand his need to, but lets him go anyway. Besides, she isn't exactly _un_happy with Finn being told what's what by Blaine, who is less likely to burst into tears, like her.

* * *

The only sound that can be heard is that of the cutlery hitting the plates, a sharp scraping sound that is usually covered up by conversation. Tonight, however, that is not the case. Rachel and Blaine sit across from one another, while their Papa is placed at the head of the table, where he occasionally looks up from his dinner at the two of them. She gently pushes the food around her plate, her chin resting on her balled up fist as she loses herself in thought. On the other side, Blaine looks equally sad as he slowly makes his way through dinner, though his expression is vacant, just like Rachel's.

For once, Michael Anderson seems to notice that there's something bothering his children but, _as usual_, he misses the point completely. "I know that you're worried about the wedding, Blaine." At this, his son blinks, eyes focusing in on him, as he listens. "It's not every day that you become someone's husband, but I fully expect you to take to the role." He pauses, "make Quinn into a good woman, keep her in line, like any man should do to his wife."

Blaine's shoulders slump, not exactly wanting to have this conversation. He's seen how men treat women – how his Father had treated his mother before her death, and that's not how he intends to do any of it. He looks over to Rachel, who's still stuck in her mind, and sighs. People's perception that men are greater than women is something that's always been lost on him, which irked his Father to no end. And to think that his sister is growing up in a world with such beliefs upsets him.

But to keep his Father quiet, he nods, "yes, sir."

"Russell brought that girl up well," he continues, "obedient, loyal, and silent." He nods, reaching into his pocket to pull out a cigarette. It's lit in an instant, light wisps of smoke rising above him, "she doesn't question anything – the mark of a good woman, I tell you." He looks pointedly at Rachel, though she's too oblivious to notice. Blaine does however, and his frown deepens.

She's never fit the mould of "good woman" in his Father's eyes. Rachel is loud, talkative, and her curiosity often leads to her breaking a rule or two. She can't help it, of course – it's just the way she is. But he wonders how long she can continue openly being herself. Soon enough it'll be her turn to marry, and no doubt their Father will try and force her into the perfect woman ideal; some little housewife to an arrogant rich man.

He nods again at his Father, stuffing another piece of carrot into his mouth and hoping that the conversation is over with. The older man takes a long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a long stream.

"The house is almost ready," he continues, "Russell said that they're putting in the furniture soon."

"That's…" Blaine frowns, "good."

"It's a nice house. Big. Open." He says, "good for kids."

Blaine pulls a pained face, not wanting to think about… _that_ with Quinn, especially not when he's trying to eat.

He drops his cutlery to the plate with a loud clatter. "I err, I've got lots of work to do."

"Of course," his Father nods, "just don't forget about what I've told you. It could come in useful in your marriage."

"I won't," Blaine responds quietly, a soft sadness to his voice.

* * *

"Blaine's acting weird," she finally says when she gets a chance alone with Kurt. She doesn't want to pry, per se, but if there's something wrong with her brother, then she wants to know, in order to help. And Kurt knows him the most, so it's only sensible to start with him.

"What do you mean weird?" he purses his lips in thought.

"He keeps leaving after work some nights," she explains, "and he _refuses_ to tell me where he's going. And yesterday, he was on the phone to this woman – I don't know who she is, but after the phone call he got all private again and just went to his room, rather than do what he'd _promised_ which was singing with me." She pouts.

Kurt chuckles at her, shaking his head, "I think you're letting your imagination get a little too wild, Rachel. He's probably just doing something for work."

"But," she pouts, "he's never put this much time into his job. He _hates_ it."

Sighing, he wraps an arm around her. "He does – _that's_ true, but I think with the wedding looming he's trying to be a better husband for," he pauses, a look of distaste on his face, "for Quinn, and their… future family."

She gazes sympathetically toward her friend. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned anything!" Rachel hates to see him sad, especially over something as big as this, but there's nothing that she can do; nothing that _anyone_ can do.

"It's okay," he replies, a fake smile on his lips, "what will be will be."

To keep herself from saying anything further, she keeps her mouth closed and merely nods sadly at him, wrapping her fingers around his in a way of comforting him.

"Besides, "Kurt says, "it's not like I won't get to see him anymore, just _less_."

She drops her head in sadness, realizing she won't see him as much either.

Kurt smiles at her, "hey, we've gotta make the best out of these situations. Blaine's going to be fine and maybe he'll be happy, too. That's all that we can ask for."

It's her turn to frown now – she doesn't think that Blaine would ever be happy in that situation, in one without any love. It's something that he needs, craves, and a lack of such could lead to disaster.

He continues, "and without Finn's help we – " And then his eyes bulge as though he's realized his great mistake, "n-not Finn. I err, I meant Quinn – _Quinn's_ help."

But it leaves her staring at him strangely, not believing his cover up for a second.

* * *

She's on the cusp of sleep when a soft knocking disrupts the silence, and she mumbles for the person to come in. The door opens, bringing with it a blinding light that causes her to squint her eyes closed for a second. When she opens them again, Blaine stands before her, the expression on his face causing her to sit up in bed, worry seeping into her body. "Blaine? Are you okay?"

His eyes lift to hers, the unmistakable sight of tears in his gaze, but Rachel keeps quiet, wanting to listen to him rather than make any abrupt judgements. She pats the spot beside her on the bed, glad when he joins her, though it's clear that there's something wrong. He doesn't even need to speak; his body language says it all. Rachel wraps her fingers around his shoulder softly, all thoughts of sleep now gone as she wants nothing more than to find out what's wrong with her brother.

He offers a tiny smile, his own hand curling over hers on his shoulder. "I'm going to miss you," he says.

Rachel's forehead creases, "what do you mean?"

His expression drops, the smile going with it, and his grip grows stronger, "I-I'm getting married, and I'm not going to see you as much."

She shakes her head, "it won't change _that_ much Blaine." She looks at him like he's silly – he's overreacting, trying to find more negatives about the wedding. While she isn't exactly happy that it's Quinn who's going to become her new sister in law tomorrow, she has to put on a smile for Blaine, and her Papa, too. "You're only going to be living a few streets away," she tells him, "and you can come visit me, or I'll visit you. Nothing will change."

That's a lie, she knows – a lot of things will change, and she's not sure whether she wants that. It'll just be weird with him not there all the time; in the mornings when she wakes up, or once he comes home from work. For the most part, it'll be just her and her Papa, and it's not like he talks to her that much, since he is so engrossed in work that he just doesn't have the time for her, nor is he ever interested in what she has to say. So having Blaine gone will make things even lonelier in her large household. Rachel sighs, now beginning to feel exactly the same as Blaine. She'd been trying not to think about it much, but now he's here and she just can't forget it. He's leaving tomorrow. Her big brother is getting married and leaving.

Her gaze rises to his, finding him looking as though he wants to speak, though being unable to do so. And now the sadness begins to seep in. Blaine seems to notice that it's finally hit her, holding out his arms for her to fall into, which she does without further instruction, head resting against his chest. She feels said chest move out as he lets out a sigh. "It's not going to be the same, is it?" she mumbles.

"No," Blaine agrees, "it's not." He gives out a hollow laugh, "we won't be able to wake each other up on our birthdays anymore."

Rachel pouts, "then it won't feel right. You'll still come and visit me, right?"

There's a long moment where Blaine doesn't say anything, his mind elsewhere, and she tilts her head to look up at him, saying, "Blaine?"

He blinks, "of course I'll come and see you." His voice is wobbly, emotional, and she feels her heart ache. Blaine's rests his chin on her head, "I really will miss you." He squeezes his eyes shut, "so, _so_ much. You really are the best sister, you know?"

"Hmm, I know," she grins, feeling his body move as he laughs along with her. "And you're the best brother."

The sentiment makes his smile grow, in turn eyes watering, and he gently kisses her hairline. They stay like that for a long time, just sitting and soaking up the company of one another. His hand holds onto hers with a vice like grip, as though he never wants to let go. Rachel's head is a heavy weight on his shoulder, and he peers down to notice that she's practically asleep. He chuckles and moves to go, but she makes a noise of protest and nuzzles her head against his shoulder.

Another ten minutes later and she's fully gone, a soft snore escaping her lips.

He then moves, quietly slipping out of the bed while simultaneously tugging her cover back over her, all of this while their hands are still practically glued together. Just as he's holding on tightly, so is _she_.

Leaning down, he kisses at the back of her hand, too, before gazing at Rachel with a sad smile.

And he let's go.

By the time morning rolls around, Rachel slowly comes from her dream land, slightly confused when she realizes Blaine is no longer with her. There've been times when he's accidentally stayed in her room through the night, but that's not the case today. She wonders when he'd left, and if he'd been okay, seeing as he was acting strange throughout the whole talk.

Sitting up in bed, she wipes the sleep from her eyes, letting the serenity of the morning wash over her. That is until she hears something that sounds like a scream from downstairs. Curiously, she tiptoes to her door, opening it just enough to hear what's going on.

The booming voice of her Papa calling Blaine's name is the first thing she hears, and then more cries. What's happening?

After putting on her dressing gown, she hastily follows the sound of the voices, the distress becoming more evident the nearer she is. They're outside Blaine's bedroom, banging on the door. By that, she means her Papa, Quinn and Mr Fabray, but a few of the serving staff are lingering too, their own curiosity bringing them here. Quinn has tear streaks down her usually pretty face, but today it's twisted with anger and upset.

Her Papa hits the door again. "Blaine! Open this door right now!" His face is practically red with rage (and she suspects embarrassment)

But what is Blaine doing? Has he locked himself inside his room so that he doesn't have to get married? Because that's not exactly a fool proof plan…

Eventually, they have to barge the door open, and then she notices. Everything is _gone_. His clothes are gone, the closet doors hanging open as if the taunt the fact, his shelves are empty of memories and pictures, nor is Blaine in the room anymore. _He's_ gone, too.

She can hear her Papa screaming out his frustration, and she can see Quinn – who stares, white as a ghost, at the scene before her, but at the same time there are millions of questions running through her mind. Where is he? Why didn't he tell her? And how did he even manage to pull this off without arousing suspicions? Papa knows all the same people that Blaine does; surely one of them would have told. Well, he knows everyone… except Finn.

And then Kurt's words come flooding back into her head. His accidental slip up.

He'd mentioned _Finn_.

Who else could it be?

Without saying anything, she rushes out of the room and back to her own, where she throws on whatever clothes she can find, not at all caring about her dishevelled look, before she's out of the house and on her way to find Finn.

* * *

**Please review, lovelies :)**


	11. XI

**I know I say this a lot, but thank you so much for reading, reviewing and favouriting this fic. **

**Thanks to the wonderful Lucy for beta'ing :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"_Finn Hudson_!" she practically screams as she enters the room, the door flying backwards on its hinges, a loud _bang_ echoing throughout the whole room. All heads turn in her direction, some shocked, some confused, and one in particular looking _absolutely terrified. _Rachel zones in on Finn, her feet carrying her over to him in an instant. There's something about his expression, how he drops his gaze from meeting hers, that is sympathetic, sad, and she realizes that Finn knows why she's here.

She looks to him expectantly, wanting him to tell her _everything_, because he is involved in this in some way, and she is yet to find out.

Opening his mouth slowly, he looks around the room to find them the center of attention, and quickly takes hold of the small of her back, beginning to lead her away. "Finn, just tell me what is going on," she starts, her voice demanding. Nothing makes sense right now, and when she doesn't understand something, it usually leads to frustration, and then that leads to her being angry – angry at not being able to control the situation and the consequences. That's probably the reason why Finn is staring at her with wide eyes. For once, his huge height doesn't seem so intimidating. On the contrary, it looks like _she_ is intimidating him.

"Well?" she asks of him, watching as he closes the door behind him, separating them from everything else. For a moment, he looks relieved to be just by themselves, though it's quickly usurped when she settles her toughest glare on him.

"I know that you're probably confused and stuff, but just let me e – "

"Finn," she says slowly, her voice scarily low, "_where_ is my brother?" She just needs to know where Blaine is, so that she can stop him doing something stupid, and hopefully make the consequences of their Papa less grave. A shudder of fear runs through her at the thought of what the man will possibly do when Blaine does return home. This isn't like what she'd done. Blaine's gone missing on his wedding day, and no doubt that Papa is upset and angry, but he's most likely humiliated too, as their good family name tarnished. She fears what the atmosphere at home is going to be like after this debacle.

But right now the most important part is _finding_ Blaine, and there's only one person who knows where he is. Slowly, her focus moves to Finn, who appears uncomfortable in his own skin. Just as she's opening her mouth to speak again, to demand once more that he tell her, the words slip from his own.

"It's too late, you know. They'll be long gone."

A tight, twisting feeling starts in her stomach, and she stares in disbelief toward the man, her head tilting ever so slightly. "They?" He hadn't made a mistake, she knows – his speech is careful, controlled, and the sadness his eyes carry making it clear that he's not talking about _just_ Blaine.

He pulls out the chair from the desk, and it's only then that she realizes they're in a room which looks like an office, the dreary decoration doing nothing for her mood. "You might want to sit down," he tells her gently.

"I don't th – "

"Sit down, Rachel," though the words are barely spoken any louder, the tone of authority to his voice makes her immediately drop to the cold, wooden chair, peering up at him with her eyebrows scrunched together. He lowers himself onto the desk before her, fingers gently brushing across the dark wood. She's almost mesmerised by the long, thick fingers, until he speaks once more, and she tears her gaze away from them to look at his face. Finn's expression is drowning in sympathy as he says, "Blaine's gone." She nods her head, already knowing that and just wanting him to get onto the next part. "And Kurt, too."

"K-Kurt?" she calls out brokenly, trying to keep the tears from growing in her eyes. The two people that she's the closest two in the entire world, gone? Rachel brings her arms up to hug her body tightly, bottom lip wobbling.

And then she watches slowly as Finn reaches forward, those long fingers of his gently curling around her hand in a comforting grasp. They're rough and large, but it seems like he's making up for that with how delicately he holds her hand. She tries to convince herself that he doesn't smile slightly at the sight of their joined hands. "I know that this… this isn't going to be easy on you. You and Blaine were so close, and you care for him so much but… but…" He trails off, his forehead creasing as he thinks. Before she can even begin to wonder why, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out some crumpled paper. As he does so, his other hand is still in hers, and it feels like he grips it tighter.

Finn peers up at her, judging her expression, before his eyes dive down to the paper, which he's now opened and is spread over the desk beside him. She nosily rises in her seat, though only slightly as not to let Finn notice, and spies the black ink scrawled over white in familiar handwriting. That belongs to Blaine. Her curiosity suddenly grows even further, but at the same time there's a feeling that sparks inside her equally as quickly, that makes her want to close her eyes and ignore the whole situation. If he truly has left, there has to be a reason why – and she's done nothing to prevent that reason, to help her brother. She feels _terrible_.

"He wrote this, before he left," Finn mumbles, eyes stuck to the paper, "and he said – he told me to read you what he wrote." She wants to talk, to ask him so many things, but unusually her words are failing her, and her brain comes up with nothing. Her silence heightens the tension in the room, which is barely broken when Finn clears his throat, "he says he sorry, that he just can't marry Quinn." Drawing the page closer, he reads, "he says that being with her would be lying to himself for the rest of his life, _betraying_ himself. And the only way to not feel that was to leave." He gulps, "to run away."

She feels her eyes close, a single tear burning down her cheek. Blaine speaking to her last night now makes sense – the way that he had looked, the way he'd spoken to her. He'd said that he'd miss her, and he knew, Blaine _knew_ that he would be leaving, and he still didn't tell her. Should she be annoyed at him for that? He's intentionally kept it from her. Why? To protect her? She looks up, finding Finn staring at her with concern; she takes a moment to consider how strange it is to see Finn acting as such, but she supposes that he must feel sorry for her. After all, he knows what it's like to be left by someone. While his experience with Amie isn't exactly the same as this, the feelings stirring inside her must have been similar to some of those he'd felt.

But those feelings, they spark thoughts inside of her. Selfish thoughts. Ugly thoughts. And she can't help the words from slipping out, "why didn't they take me?" Her head shakes ever so slightly, and she's barely able to look into his eyes, "Why did they leave me _here_? By myself?"

Head snapping up, he frowns at her, "you're not completely by yourself. You still have your Father."

"My _Papa_?" she questions out, as though _he_ is a suitable substitution for her brother and best friend. And, judging by the way Finn's body sags at her outburst, he knows it too. "I can't believe this. I can't believe that they just _left_, and didn't tell me, didn't tell anyone…" she pauses, "anyone, but _you_."

"Look, they told me for a good reason, okay? And I know you think that I'm some total ass." She doesn't disagree; instead she peers down at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the room. "They couldn't do this by themselves though, and I'm like, the only person that your Father won't come to looking for Blaine. I was the only safe option for them – the only one who could help them."

"How long have you known?" she catches him off guard with the harshness to her tone, and he sighs.

"Rachel, pleas – "

She clenches her jaw, "_how long_, Finn?"

"A few weeks…"

It all clicks in her head, a blinding flash of realization hitting her. "It was when he went back to your apartment – that's when he told you, isn't it? He didn't go back for me, he went back for himself."

"Hey, don't be like that."

"Why can't I be like that? I've been _abandoned_!" she cries out dramatically, tearing her hand from his as she does so. "By my own _brother_."

His brow furrows, "so that he can be with Kurt and not be unhappy for the rest of his life." Despite knowing that his words are true, she can't help herself. She's always been easily swayed by her feelings and this time isn't any different. Only, she's overcome with an intense flood of sadness, and she can't help the tears from flowing strongly now. While Finn looks uncomfortable with a sobbing girl in this tiny room with him, he also looks slightly annoyed. "This is good," he says, "aren't you happy for your brother?"

Yes, of course she is. She knows just how much he wanted to be free, of the house, of their Papa, but at the same time still being trapped herself is overruling said happiness, and she stays quiet, or as quiet as she can be as she cries to herself, sniffling ever couple of seconds.

But he takes her lack of response as a no, and his features scrunch together angrily. "Rachel – "

"I'm allowed to be upset!" she defends herself.

He doesn't deny that fact, but still, he says, "you know that Blaine feels terrible about leaving you, right? He almost didn't go, because it hurt him so much." She just cries harder. "Kurt and I had to convince him that it was the only option so many times."

"Y-you told him to go?" She blinks at him.

"Of course I did!" Finn stands, his height now seeming intimidating once more, as does his expression. "I could see how much it was hurting him, how much it _would_ hurt him to be in that marriage with Quinn."

"Papa said that he could have learned to love her," she tries pathetically, knowing in her heart that such a thing could never happen, but her head is trying to convince her otherwise. Finn sets this _look_ on her, and it makes her feel in all about four inches tall.

"Try putting yourself in his shoes, Rachel. This is the only way that he'd be happy, if he left this life behind and started a new one – a _better_ one." When he's once more met with a silence, he practically growls. "Don't you understand what he's been feeling?"

She looks offended, a deep frown adorning her face. "He's my brother; of course I know what he's feeling. How dare you – "

Finn scoffs, "well, you don't seem to acknowledge those feelings, or care. Oh no, it's all about you, isn't it?"

"_Excuse me_, that is _not_ what it's like. I am a very considerate per – "

Her frustration grows when he cuts her off again, "yeah, you're real good at considering _yourself_."

She now stands up to meet his offensive stature, glaring at him with dark eyes. How can he say those things about her? She cares about Blaine, and Kurt, _so much_, and for Finn to turn around and question that is preposterous! "Finn, I can't believe that you'd even think someth – "

"No, but the truth of the matter is that you're only nice and caring if there's something in it for you, right?" Rachel head hangs toward the floor; she's not going to dignify him with an answer. She then hears him sigh, "see? You won't even deny it. I helped Blaine because I cared, because I didn't want to see him unhappy, and because I _understand_."

At that, she frowns, and she does look to him, trying to judge his expression. She freezes when she sees his eyes and the tears forming in them. She does not like seeing tears in Finn Hudson's eyes. "How," she sniffs lightly, "how can you understand what it feels like?" He isn't in Kurt and Blaine's situation, and she can't imagine him being in one similar to it.

But the fact that she even questioned his empathy in the situation sends him into a stoic expression. "I just know," he insists.

"_How_?"

Sighing, he shakes his head, "it doesn't matter, I – "

"Finn!"

"No, it's – "

"Just tell me!" she doesn't understand what the big deal is. He's making such an effort of insisting that he does understand and then, when questioned about it, he shies away from telling her and deems it as unimportant. He looks to her, eyes glistening with tears, but he doesn't say anything. "_What_ is it?" she forces the words out, each one sounding harsher than she would have liked.

The more he refuses, the more she wants – no, _needs_ – to know.

And, stubbornly so, she concocts a plan. Placing herself down in the seat, she primly crosses her arms across her chest and says, "I'm not leaving this room, until you tell me." It's a little over the top, she admits, but Rachel Anderson will do anything to get what she wants, and if she wants this, then she sure as hell isn't going to give up until Finn does so first.

He looks at her, rolls his eyes and snaps out, "Rachel, you're being childish – "

"Well I am a kid, after all, aren't I?" she responds pettily, referring to the times when Finn had only referred to her as 'kid', despite her growing annoyances.

"I wasn't even going to say anything important," he tries, but Rachel can tell in an instant that he's lying, and she raises an eyebrow toward Finn. "What does it matter to you anyway?" Honestly? She really has no idea why she needs to know so much, but she does, and Finn's resilience to telling her is making things worse.

"Because I can tell that it matters to you, Finn," she says.

"But it doesn't!"

"Just," she argues, "stop lying."

Finn looks almost _defeated_ when he realizes that he's not fooling her, and then there's her determination to know is looming over him. He's not getting out of this, not unless… "Fine," he relents, "the reason that I understand what it's like for Blaine…" He stops; thinking how is the best way to word this, to tell her. But, if anything, it just further frustrates Rachel, who doesn't suspect the significance that the announcement will bring.

"I get it because… I know what it's like to be in love with someone I know I can't _ever_ be with – no matter how much I want it." Pain is written all over his features, each one tight, contorted in a way that makes her unable to look away from them. "And I know how much it _hurts_."

In a matter of seconds, something changes between them. It's like she blinks and suddenly Finn is this new person, a person who is looking at her with something in his eyes, and she thinks that just might be love.

It catches her off guard, it really does. And it's not exactly like she's been in this situation before, so naturally she is unsure of what to do. Turns out that reading all those romance novels does nothing to prepare you for the real thing.

"W-what?" she hears herself say. He'd spoken about being in _love_, and he's staring at her like that. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's trying to tell her.

He takes a deep breath, broad chest heaving up and down as he does so. And he doesn't need to say anything – his face says it all.

She stands again, her legs feeling weak beneath her as she moves nearer to Finn. Lifting her gaze, their eyes meet in an unbreakable stare, as if holding a conversation between the two with no words. Rachel comes to stand before Finn, the cramped conditions of the room causing their bodies to be almost flush against one another. Her hands shakes as they stretch out, grabbing at the collar of the vest he wears, before tugging it down, causing Finn to bend ever so slightly. A second later her lips crash into his.

The excitement tides over her body – and _their_ bodies are connected by the loving action, even more so when Finn brings a hand up to cup her chin, holding her in place. She closes her eyes, allowing her to lose herself in the kiss. Ever since their first kiss, doing this again has always been on the forefront of her mind and now, in the midst of the magical moment, she can be happy, content, and she can forget about all the drama surrounding the day, just for the time that Finn's holding her so delicately, and kissing her for all it's worth.

But all good things must come to an end.

It's Rachel who pulls back first, her eyes still questioning him. If this is the way he felt about her, why did he spend so long ignoring her – and his feelings – only to confuse the matter even further? Isn't it just better to confront something head on? Then she catches the fear in his eyes, and she realizes the meaning to his words. They can't be together, not in the way that they'd want to be. Her Papa would never allow anything of the sort, and lying to him would only make her feel worse. And inevitably she'll be getting married one day, and not to Finn. No, it'll be to someone like Jesse St James, or Sam Evans. Someone _worthy_.

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" she remembers the last time she'd confronted him, after their first kiss, and how he'd called it a mistake, telling her to forget about it. And she doesn't want him to act like that now, not after what he'd just revealed.

But he doesn't react that way - not this time. His fingers are still cupping beneath her chin, grazing the skin softly. The simple touch gives her goosebumps. "No," he says," we shouldn't." And then he kisses her again, deeply, his tongue caressing along her bottom lip.

By the time he pulls away again, she's left breathless, staring at Finn with wide, unsure eyes.

"That was…," she starts, "it was…"

"Yeah," he agrees, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

She blinks, "b-but why now? Why didn't you tell me before?" It would have saved her much confusion if Finn had just been completely honest with her, rather than pushing her away.

He smiles wryly, "I'm not so good with feelings and stuff." Then adds, "And you kind of make me feel so many things… it's like, I don't know what to focus on when I'm with you."

"What are you focusing on now?" her curiosity steps in.

"How happy I am that you kissed me."

Rachel nods, bowing her head ever so slightly with a slight tint to her cheeks. She's happy about that, too. Still, despite the impromptu kiss, they have other matters at hand. First and foremost, the situation with Kurt and Blaine, and how Finn is involved in such. Upset still lingers inside her, but she supposes that she should hear about the entirety of the events rather than coming to a rash decision, as that just led to her and Finn yelling at one another.

"You need to tell me what where Blaine is going to," she announces, watching Finn frown.

"You're not going to yell at me again, are you?"

She gives him a look, before shaking her head, "Finn, please, I need to know. He's my brother, and now he's gone – you're the only person who can tell me the truth…"

Leading her to sit down again, starting to explain the whole story. How Kurt and Blaine have gone to stay with a friend of Finn's – a woman named Santana – who lives in San Francisco. While she's surprised, and feels her heart drop a little, at the thought of Blaine and Kurt being all the way on the other side of the country, she has to accept that at least they're happy, and together. They're always at their best when they're together.

After a tiny bit more crying, though that's more due to resigning herself to the thought that she'll be alone in her home now, Finn pushes the letter forward for her to read herself. It's the last paragraph that catches her attention. Rachel wipes at her puffy, red eyes, and takes a gulp, "i-it says here that you said you'd keep an eye on me. You promised Blaine that?"

Finn scratches the back of his head idly. "Er, yeah. Like I said, he didn't want to leave, and he'd only go knowing that there was someone to take care of you. I don't think he was too happy when Kurt suggested me. I mean, he was pretty angry when you came to my apartment that time, but he warmed up to the idea when he realized there was no one else."

She feels herself nodding, thinking about exactly how Finn would 'keep an eye on her' if she hadn't come here today and they still weren't talking. But she doesn't ask, instead opting to say, "I'm going to miss Blaine, so much." And naturally the tears come back.

* * *

She barely remembers any of the walk home, hounded by her thoughts the entire time. Blaine has gone, is going, to San Francisco, and he's taking Kurt with him. It would be easier to take her mind off these things if she had some company, but Finn had only walked her half way home, as they both knew it would be risky to be together in her neighborhood.

As she nears home, she wonders what the consequences are going to be for leaving so abruptly that morning. Surely her Papa will be angry, and that will only be further escalated by him finding Blaine gone, no doubt trying to track his son down.

When she steps inside, oddly enough the whole house is silent. She stares around; searching for any sign of life, but it's like a ghost town. The rooms are still decorated for the wedding reception, for the wedding which never happened, and it's just another reminder that Blaine is gone. Her footsteps echo throughout the halls, almost deafening in her ears. A frown grows on her lips when she sees the door to her Papa's office wide open. It's _never_ open. The only time that door opens is when someone is going in or out of the room, and it's usually her Papa. So why is it now?

Rachel walks with trepidation on her way closer to the room, letting a small gasp escape her lips when she sees the state of it. Even though she's only been inside a few times, she's aware that it's kept in pristine condition, but now it looks as though it's been attacked by some sort of tornado. Books have been thrown to the floor, papers too, and some are torn. The chairs are turned over, too, and all in all, everything is just a mess. But sitting in the middle of that mess is her Papa, staring straight ahead with an empty expression on his face. His chin is rested on his balled up fists, and he's completely unmoving. Did _he_ do this to his office? In some sort of fit of rage?

"Papa?" she's asking out before she can stop herself, bringing him back into reality.

"Rachel," he stands in an instant, looking surprised to see her, but then his face darkens and he's advancing on her. "Where have you been? You've been gone for hours!" Rachel feels herself stepping back, flinching as he nears her. The closer he gets, the easier it is the see the dried tear tracks on his face. She's never seen him cry before, and seeing those confuse her, but she doesn't say anything as he's grasping hold of her upper arm and pulling her down the hall.

She winces in an instant, "Papa, you're hurting me." But he doesn't listen; he continues to pull her along.

"I want you to stay in your room until I say you can come out, do you understand me?" When she doesn't reply at first, he subconsciously tightens his hold of her arm, and she quickly cries out a 'yes', nodding desperately. He seems so enraged, and trying to regain what little control he has left. Blaine has left – ignoring their Papa's wishes, so now he needs to dominate over everything else, including her.

They reach her room and he practically throws her inside. Without so much as another word, he slams the door shut behind him, his heavy footsteps leading down the hallway. While he didn't physically lock her in, the threat still lingers in the air, and she really doesn't want him to get any worse. Rachel rubs at her arm, now beginning to grow in soreness, and tries not to cry. She needs to stay strong, especially now that Blaine isn't there to stand up for her any more.

She steps backwards until her legs hit the bed, before she drops down onto it, staring at the closed door. Things will only get worse, she thinks miserably.

But, a silver lining in her dark cloud – at least she's not totally alone. She has Finn, and maybe that's enough.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	12. XII

**Update time! :) It would have been earlier, but I've been at a party tonight, so sorry about that. It's still a Saturday anyway (just about haha)**

**Thank you to the wonderful, klamazing Lucy for beta'ing **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

It's silly really, she concludes when she thinks about it, that she can sometimes still hear the faint voice of Blaine around the house, or that some of the rooms still sort of have his smell lingering around them. Sometimes she'll wake up in the morning, and go downstairs for breakfast, expecting to see the smiling face of her brother there.

But he isn't.

It's usually her Papa, and he does not having a smiling face, by anyone's standards. Ever since Blaine left he's been in a constant foul mood, short tempered with everyone, including her. But a lot of the time he goes into work early now. Not that she minds – in fact it's almost a relief. Having no company is much better than having terrible company, and if she has to eat and spend the day by herself, then so be it.

Only, she's not entirely by herself. There's still Miss Shelby, of course. And she seems to be even more conscious of Rachel's feelings and wellbeing since Blaine had left.

Like right now, she can feel the woman's gaze on her, making the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end and she can hardly concentrate on her writing. It's an awkward feeling, one that she wishes she could shake off, but no such luck. Eventually, she can't stay silent for any longer and turns, noticing how Miss Shelby instantly averts her gaze as to make it look like she hadn't been staring.

In a small whisper, she gets out, "Miss Shelby?"

The woman looks down at her, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Yes?"

And then it's as though she forgets every word, her mouth open, poised to speak, but nothing comes out. Miss Shelby observes with concern, "is everything okay?"

Rachel stares down at the table, feeling silly for calling her when she didn't need anything. It's just that she could no longer take the staring, and she'd acted before she'd truly thought about what she were going to do. "It's nothing," she tries, shaking her head slowly. Suddenly she feels movement beside her, and then an arm slips around her shoulder. Rachel turns, finding herself inches away from Miss Shelby.

Her body stiffens slightly, not that she can help it. Ever since she'd overheard that conversation between Miss Shelby and Papa, she just doesn't know how to act around her. It's just that this woman, she's her mother, and that changes everything. Her life has been admittedly devoid of women role models (she'd been told that her 'mother' died when she were three years old, and Miss Shelby didn't become her tutor until a few years ago) so nobody can really blame her for being at a loss of how to act now armed with knowing who her _real _mother is.

She can't just… _tell_ Miss Shelby that she knows. While Blaine had shot the thought down immediately, it still lingers that the reason no one told her is because Miss Shelby didn't want the responsibility of being her mother and, more worryingly, she didn't _want_ to be her mother. Rachel doesn't think that she could take that kind of rejection if she told the woman.

It's the fear of said rejection that had kept her silent these past few weeks.

"Are you still upset about Blaine?" Miss Shelby questions her, her hand soothing up and down Rachel's back.

Her response is quick, glad that she doesn't have to make anything up. After all, it _has_ been a few weeks, and Blaine's departure has left her lonely and often distant during the day. "I miss Blaine so much," she tells Miss Shelby.

Before she knows it, she's in the woman's strong embrace, and she can't help the smile that creeps onto her face. It's moments like these that she's sure, whatever had happened, Miss Shelby wanted to be part of her life, to be there for her. It's only when Rachel's by herself that she lets her mind think that it isn't true, allowing her insecurities to take hold.

She rests her chin on Miss Shelby's shoulder, her own hold tight around the woman. _Tell her that you know_, her heart urges, but once again her head intervenes and she keeps her mouth clamped shut.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," she whispers.

It feels nice, she thinks, to be able to share her feelings with someone. She's seen Finn a few times since it's happened (he just seems to appear on her balcony in the middle of the night, and if she didn't already know it was him, she'd find herself intimidated by his daunting stature) but she doesn't feel he'd want to deal with a sobbing, emotional girl. So having all these cooped up feelings finally released is really a relief.

Though little words are exchanged, just being in one another's company makes them content enough, and Rachel settles into Miss Shelby's embrace. A warm smile crosses her lips, and she closes her eyes – this just feels _right_.

Eventually she feels Miss Shelby shift, pulling back from the hug. She smiles down at Rachel, then reaches up a hand and brushes Rachel's hair behind her ear. "I know that this must be hard for you, but if you ever need anyone to talk to, day or night, I'm here, okay?"

Her heart warms, and she becomes teary eyed again. She stares into Miss Shelby's eyes, which are equally as watery, and nods. "Thank you."

"There's no need to thank me," she replies softly, "you need someone looking after you. It's not like your Fa –" She quickly cuts herself short, "never mind, it's not my place."

Rachel tilts her head slightly, face scrunching up in thought. She thinks that she knows what Miss Shelby was going to say, and the sad thing is that she'd be inclined to agree. Each day it feels like the relationship – whatever relationship there was – between her and her Papa is slowly deteriorating, and it's as though he doesn't care about her, but only what her appearance to their neighbors and friends. And, after the news of Blaine's running away spreading around, he's putting extra effort into keeping her in line, so she can keep up the façade of the perfect daughter.

* * *

It's silent when she wakes up that morning, and she creeps downstairs as not to disturb said silence. Once again, the immaculate house is empty, so she supposes her Papa is at work, and Miss Shelby won't be here for a few hours. With a wistful sigh, she goes into the kitchens to ask one of the maids to bring out her breakfast.

After she's eaten, the larger dining room seeming even bigger as she's sat alone at the grand table, she finds herself sat at the piano, filling the silence with a slow melody of notes. The tune she plays brings a melancholy mood around the house, and only worsens her mood until she can barely bring a smile to her face. Soon enough, her fingers slow, and the music dies down, leaving her staring down at the piano.

Peering at the clock ahead, she notices that Miss Shelby will be here soon, and gets up again, this time headed to get things ready for her studies.

There's a small room, wedged between her Papa's study and the dining room, which had become perfect for this use, the walls covered in learning charts and learning aids. She'd never had much choice about being home schooled – her Papa was adamant that she'd never go to public school, and if she went to a private school, if would be harder to keep his eye on her, so home schooling was the only viable option.

It's not bad, but then again it isn't _good_ either.

Most people meet friends at school, some that stay with you for the rest of your life, and her only real friend up until she was ten had been Blaine.

Once she's inside, seeing the pile of work for her, she sighs. Still, better to get it over with so that she can be finished earlier, and maybe find something productive to do for the rest of the day. After a little longer waiting, she hears footsteps approaching, and Miss Shelby enters with a smile on her face. She has a few of her own things in her hands, all of which she places on the desk against the wall, and Rachel walks over to her.

"You ready?" she smiles.

She nods, her eyes instantly drawn to the letter on top of the pile, a letter addressed to a Rachel Berry. Rachel frowns – is it for her? But then it says Rachel Berry… She feels a pang of nostalgia when she realizes that was the name that she used to use as a child; her 'stage name' as it were, so it would make sense if it were hers. Still, the only person who knew that she used to call herself Rachel Berry is… She shakes her head, needing to see the letter for herself. "Is that… -" She begins uncertainly.

"It came this morning. I figured that they got your last name wrong by accident, because you're the only Rachel in this house," the woman says softly, giving the letter to her. She stares at it, almost as if it isn't real, before she realizes who the handwriting belongs to and her breath hitches in her throat. _Blaine_. "Rachel?" Miss Shelby observes her with confusion, not sure why she's suddenly pale as a ghost. "Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine," she forces out, then adds a smile. Now over the initial shock, she gathers herself and gently places the letter down to read later, thinking how much she wants to read it now, but she can't do that with Miss Shelby in the room.

So, for the next few hours, she goes through the torture of classes while she knows that there's a letter from Blaine waiting for her. She begins to wonder, naturally, what's on it. Is he okay? Is he hurt? She's restless as she waits, which doesn't go unnoticed, and she thinks that she's worrying Miss Shelby with her almost erratic behaviour.

She just wants to read the letter.

When she's dismissed, she couldn't be out of there faster, going to the confines of her room where the walls keep her protected and away from prying eyes.

Rachel stares down at the letter, her hands shaking so much that she can barely open it. She stops, taking a deep breath and saying, "just calm down, it's only a letter." It helps, slightly, enough so that she can tear the envelope open and pull said letter out, almost crying from just seeing the page full of Blaine's familiar script.

With a shaky smile, she begins to read.

_Miss R. Berry, _

_I'm finding this difficult to write; I've had to start over and over again just to even get your name on the paper the way I want it to look. I know it sounds stupid, but this is the only connection I have with you and I want you to know it means everything to me. _

_We arrived in San Francisco yesterday and the first thing I wanted was to write to you. I'm not sure how long this letter will take to get all the way across the country, but I hope it doesn't take too long. _

_Our journey across the states was fun to say the least, action packed and we saw so many sights on our way over here. I can't wait to tell you about them all. You know there's a guy in Utah with a really long beard, unfortunately someone says I'm not allowed_ _to grow a beard - apparently it tickles. _

_So, I know I left a huge, gaping hole behind in New York, I wish it didn't have to be this way, I really do, I wish I didn't have to leave you behind. I'm sorry for that. We both are. I miss you like crazy and I want nothing more than for you to be here with us right now, experiencing what it's like away from control and dictatorship. It's soothing to say the least. Awfully calm. _

_I miss hearing your voice. I miss you waking me up in the mornings at the most inappropriate times. I miss us singing together whenever we felt like. But most of all, I just miss you. Your presence was enough to make a room full of the down and depressed smile. _

_But, I had to do what I had to do. And I'm sure, when things settle; you'll be one of the first to visit us. We're not settled properly yet - living with Santana is hectic enough, we barely have a minute to ourselves. And finding work is just as hard, we're both just trying to get menial jobs first off, after all we need some money behind us. I don't want to use all of what we brought with us in one go. _

_Santana is lovely. Her home is lovely, and she's welcoming, if not a little bit scary. But she's nothing compared to you. And that's saying something. She does, however, like nicknames and I'm 'midget' most of the time. I won't tell you what K's is, it's slightly rude and, you know, you shouldn't know about things like that. Trust_ me, _the way he got his nickname was a total accident, Santana wasn't supposed to be there._

_I know you've probably spent all week thinking about us, wondering what's happening, where we are, what we're doing. But I can assure you, with all my heart, we are absolutely fine. My biggest worry is that you're okay though. Please, tell me you're okay? I screwed things up big time for you back in New York; I hope nobody has been too hard on you. It would break my heart to know that I've hurt you in any way. It was never my intention to hurt you, Rachel. _

_When I told Finn to take care of you, I meant it, in every way possible. I know what he means to you and now, well, I'm not in the way to punch him anymore, am I? That was a joke by the way, I'm laughing right now. K's looking at me funny. _

_But, anyway, yes, I meant it. Finn is important to you, I can see that. And you, even if you don't believe it, are important to him, too. You have my blessing Rachel, to do whatever you please. You're a grown up girl now and Finn will love you unconditionally, I can feel it in my heart. _

_Look, I'm getting moaned at for not helping out in the kitchen - apparently everyone chips in in this house. _

_I'll look forward to hearing from you soon, I miss you, I love you and stay safe. _

_Kitten Boy and his Damsel in Distress. _

Rachel feels a few stray tears rolling down her cheeks, one dropping down onto the paper and smudging the neatly written ink. The smile that appears on her face is uncontainable, bright and loving. Blaine is okay, and so is Kurt.

It feels like a great relief, hearing from him, and knowing that he got to his destination safely. The amount of hours that she's spent awake in the dead of night thinking about it, worrying for her brother, had left her exhausted and even more anxious. Now with this letter, handwritten by her Blaine, her heart feels a little lighter and her head a little clearer.

She smiles, reading over the letter again – and she suspects she'll read it a few more times before she falls asleep that night. A spark of curiosity ignites as she thinks about this Santana woman; from what Finn had told her, she is nice enough, and since she's like Kurt and Blaine (as Finn had explained) she'll keep their secret safe. All she wants is for them to be safe and happy, even if feels as though there's now something missing in her life, something that she knows can't be filled. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for those that you love.

And she knows that Blaine will be happy, with Kurt by his side. There's no doubt about it really.

* * *

She's just bid goodnight to her Papa when she gets to her room, her eyes instantly drawn out through the French doors that lead off to the balcony, and the large figure stood behind them. She draws in a breath, "Finn," gently falling from her lips, and goes to open the doors. It's only February, but the nights are still cold as ever, and the thought of Finn freezing while he waits for her is something she'd much rather avoid.

Finn looks straight toward her now, having heard the movement from inside, and he actually manages a smile. Ever since their conversation when Blaine left, he's been making more of an effort to be nice to her. She still isn't quite sure as to the exact reason why – is it pity or a genuine caring? But Rachel chooses not to focus on that as she opens the door, shivering when the icy air hits, and dragging Finn inside.

"You have to be more careful," she says, "we can't let anyone see you. If Papa knew you were here, it would mean both of our heads." Looking slightly apologetic, he bows his head and steps further inside.

This is the second time he's been in her room, though she never thought she'd have someone like Finn in here. Amongst all the pink of feminine curves of her furniture, he just looks out of place.

"You got a letter?" he doesn't waste time, bearing straight down at her.

She nods quickly, moving over to her bed, where it's hidden beneath the pillow (she'd put it there so that no one could accidentally stumble upon it) and lifts it up for him to see. Rachel realizes that she's smiling again, "I'm so relieved." Holding the letter just over where her heart is, she adds, "I convinced myself that something terrible would happen to them on the way. That Papa would somehow find them - or that there'd be an accident..." She shudders, not wanting to consider such things.

Finn gives her this look, almost like 'I told you so', as though he knew she'd been worrying the whole time, even if she hadn't said as much. Rather than get annoyed, she finds herself grinning toward him. In the spur of a moment decision, she's practically throwing herself at him, thankful that he catches her, and she embraces him tightly. Finn is the only person that she can share this happiness with, so she's not going to waste a chance to show her gratitude for Blaine, and Kurt, being safe and living with someone trustworthy.

Tilting her head back, she finds him already looking down at her, but her gaze is easily distracted by those soft lips of his, and she can barely pull it away.

She remembers how they feel, so gentle and cautious against her own. Every time he comes here, waiting at her balcony, he doesn't leave without a quick peck to her lips. It's almost as though he does it quickly before he loses the courage and backs out, not that she minds. All that matters is that _he's_ kissing her, and that's got to mean something, right?

Rachel wants to kiss him, a lot, but she's just unsure as to what type of relationship they have right now. They're not _together_ in any sense, yet they sometimes kiss and they care about one another. Even Blaine had said so – it's not like she's deluding herself into this thought. All she knows is that Finn seems to have a hard time showing his feelings to others, and he's tries his hardest to do it with her, too. Yet, for some reason, he just _can't_ hide them from her.

It'd be like a constant battle between Finn and his feelings, and said battle had led to all the confusion, where one minute he'd be nice to her and the next he'd want nothing to do with her.

But honestly, Rachel's much happier now that he seems to be letting the side that fights his feelings lay dormant, as that means that she can be with the Finn who cares for her, and who isn't afraid to show that.

At that moment, staring up at him, it feels like the world around her is gone. And there's just her and Finn, and nothing else. It's an uplifting feeling, where she can be free of worries.

His eyes stare back at her, never once leaving her face – almost as though he's transfixed by her. Rachel smiles and bites her lip slowly, while her hands on his shoulders seem to tighten their grasp, holding him more firmly. He looks like he wants to kiss her.

And he does.

Timidly at first – though he always seems like that -, he bends down so that his lips can brush against her own; hot breath dancing across her lips. She smiles, before moving that half an inch forward and keeping them connected. It's almost as though they can't _not_ kiss when in such a close proximity with one another, and eventually one of them relents to the urge to do so. But Rachel doesn't mind. In fact, she _likes_ it.

As quickly as it happened, it's soon put to a stop as he tears from her, a definitely coldness wrapping around his body at the loss of contact, and reaches into his pocket. Hiding her frown well, she soon lets a look of curiosity take over her. "What are you doing?"

He continues to fumble around for something. "I got a letter, too. From Blaine and Kurt." He suddenly finds it, a proud smile on his face, before he moves closer to her, his body sweeping past hers on his way to the bed. Finn promptly sits himself down, and she follows, placing herself beside him. She is just focusing on the most important thing, which is that the letter must hold something important if Finn's come all this way to show her.

"What does it say?" she peers down curiously, and in doing so finds herself practically leaning over Finn. He doesn't say anything about it, so she doesn't correct herself.

Finn clears his throat, almost nervously, before saying, "he wants me to take you somewhere."

She turns her head, body following. "Where?"

Before she even gets the chance to peer at the hand writing, the paper is snatched from her vision and folded up again. Finn looks to her bedroom door, as though expecting someone to walk through it at any moment. He doesn't answer her question, and instead asks, "where is your Father?"

"In his study, working." She tilts her head ever so slightly, "why?"

Up on his feet, and moving with surprising speed, he heads over to where the doors are still open. His hands on the ledge, he throws a look over the side, before turning back at her. Now thoroughly confused (really, would it kill him to actually explain to her what he's doing?), she joins him outside, looking at what he's looking at, though not understanding.

"Finn?" she calls out unsurely. He blinks, lowering his gaze down to her.

"Your Father can't see here from his study, can he?"

Her forehead creases, "no, his study is on the other side of the house." He looks down again, as if calculating something. "Finn, what are you looking for?"

Suddenly he's stood right in front of her, large hands placed on either shoulder as he looks into her eyes, "you're not scared of heights, are you?"

"What? No, I'm not. What are you do – _ahhhhh_!"

Finn clamps a hand over her mouth, while the other is tightly wrapped around her waist where he holds her a good few feet off the ground. When she's placed on the ledge, she finds herself at his level for once, maybe even taller, but doesn't have time to focus on that as she's gripping onto Finn for dear life. "Finn!" she shouts, "why did you put me up he –"

"_Shush_, someone will hear you."

Now she's staring at him as though he's crazy, though doesn't let her hold on his waver. He turns and she finds herself staring at the back of his head, an unsettling feeling beginning to sink in. What is he up to?

Peering back over his shoulder at her, he says, "Good, now climb onto my back."

She gapes.

"Rachel, do it. Quickly!"

"Finn, I don't understand –"

With a roll of his eyes, he moves backwards, grabbing at her arms which are then pulled around his neck in a tight hold, his back pressing against her chest. Rachel can't help the furious blush that crosses her face, and is glad that Finn is facing the other way so he can't witness it. "Put your legs around me," he commands.

All she can manage is to let out a little squeak.

"Rachel!"

"I…"

"What's wrong with you?" he growls with impatience, not allowing her time to speak as he, without warning, steps a few feet away from where she's stood, forcing her to wrap her legs around him to stop them from dangling above the floor.

She frowns crossly, "Finn, I'm wearing a dress. This isn't exactly dignified!"

Finn huffs in response, and suddenly he's reaching out off of the balcony as he tries to get a grip on one of the ledges that he uses to climb up and down.

"I changed my mind. I don't want to go anywhere," she begins to panic, sure that she's cutting off his airways with how tight her arms are around his neck.

The second she begins to struggle, Finn stops, "if you keep moving, we're sure as hell going to fall." That stops her, and she makes a whimpering noise before hiding her head against his back so that she doesn't have to see what's going on, or how high up they are. But she can _feel_ it. And that only makes her hold onto Finn with everything she has. "Please don't drop me, please don't drop me," she hears herself saying.

Until it's Finn's voice that interrupts her, "thanks for filling me with confidence there." Then there's a thud as they hit solid ground. "You can let go of me now."

She slides from his back, landing on the floor with her shaky legs and eyes still scrunched closed. When she hears Finn's chuckle, she manages to open them once more, finding that she is definitely still alive and unharmed. She sighs in relief, her pulse returning to a normal rate.

A large hand wraps around hers, beginning to pull her around to the front of the house, all the while the pair keeping as vigilant as possible. It's not really late, so they still could be seen and both would like to avoid that. Every time she tries to talk, he shushes her before she can get a word out, leaving her to roll her eyes each time. But at least his hand is holding onto hers, maybe even tighter than before, if possible.

Time passes, the night growing colder. When he sees her shivering, having not anticipated going out today and only wearing a thin, light yellow dress, it's almost instinct for him to shrug his jacket off and throw it over her shoulders, like he'd done that one time when they were with Kurt and Blaine. She smiles - she can't help it, and inches closer to Finn. "Where are we going?" she asks again, maybe in hopes that this time he'll answer her.

He doesn't. He just raises an eyebrow, a half smile tugging at his lips, "you don't like not knowing things, huh?"

"I'm glad that you find that so amusing," she replies primly, nose stuck up in the air.

Finn just laughs, his arm somehow ending up strewn across her shoulder, and it sets her heart wild in her chest. He must know what he's doing – it's not as though his arm suddenly has control of itself. So, she leans into him, experimentally, just to see what he does. He peers down at her for a moment, brows slightly scrunched together before he asks, "Are you still cold?" She quickly nods to him, noticing that he hasn't moved her further away again. "Sorry," he begins, "it's my fault. I should have warned you."

She cranes her neck, gaze finding his, "I'll be fine."

"Yeah, we're almost there now anyway."

Now there's excitement bubbling away, wondering where in the world Finn is taking her. All she knows is that Blaine has something to do with it, and she immediately begins to search her mind for anything related to Blaine ad wanting her to do a particular thing. Unfortunately, she comes up short.

But only after a few minutes of walking, Finn begins to slow until they reach a large building, the entrance welcoming, bringing with it warmth that runs through her entire body. Finn holds the door open for her, while she enters with wide eyes, mouth hanging open. It's just as nice inside, though there are so many people that she has trouble navigating around at first.

"Finn," Rachel frowns, "I don't understand why we're here."

"Be patient," he tells her, "you will." Though his answer isn't at all what she wanted, she accepts it and follows him as he walks. There's a dimly lit bar off to one side, and then she notices, with a smile, a huge stage on the other, something which she instantly feels a tug towards.

However, she's pulled in another direction when Finn's arm is around her again, this time her waist, and is pulling her toward the bar. Her body heats up in a completely different way at his touch.

This is all so exciting, she thinks, having never been anywhere like this before. The music sweeps around the whole room, some watching the performance on stage while others sit and talk. She is one of the ones enthralled by it, so much that Finn has to call her name three times before he gets a response. "Hmm?" she turns.

"I said, did you want something to drink?"

Her eyes immediately move over to the bar, the frown returning. She doesn't even know what most of those things are. "I'll just have some water." He kind of gives her this funny look, but doesn't say anything and orders her some water with his whiskey. While they're at the bar, Rachel staying practically glued to Finn's side. She turns, only slightly, and finds a man, middle aged, leering at her. The look makes her feel uncomfortable, crawling over her skin, and she's glad when Finn gets their drinks and they can move.

Once a small table is found, they sit across from one another and Rachel is instantly engrossed in the stage again. Finn observes this with a tiny smile, taking a sip of his whiskey.

"What does that taste like?"

He blinks, staring across to find a curious Rachel looking his way. Her eyes are glued to his glass.

He lifts it, "the whiskey? Something tells me you won't like it."

Rachel purses her lips, tentatively asking, "can I try some?"

"Er," he stumbles around for the right thing to say, the realizes that she's probably going to need something to loosen her up for tonight, a little bit of liquid courage. "A sip," he says, putting the glass in her hand.

Finn watches with amusement as she takes _more_ than a sip, instantly dropping the glass onto the table and beginning to cough. Her eyes even water a little. "That is… is… disgusting." She gulps heavily at her water, "how can you drink that?" He chuckles, shaking his head at her.

"You're just not used to it, that's all."

She pulls a face, "I don't _want_ to get used to it." Rather than letting them fall into the same silence again, she asks, "so, now can you tell me why you brought me here? It's been bothering me the whole way." And then she uses her best, biggest brown eyes to sway him into answering her.

"Ah, it's a surprise."

"You're not going to tell me?" she pouts.

Peering down at his watch, he smiles, "soon. I kind of got the impression that you'd like this, and I had a friend pull in a favor for me."

_Now_ she's even more confused.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	13. XIII

**Time to find out what Finn's surprise is! :)**

**Thank you to my amazing Lucy for beta'ing**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Just when she thought she had figured Finn out, he surprises her again, and now, she waits, waiting for his surprise, whatever it may be. Hundreds of possibilities run through her mind – some downright impossible and others a little crazy.

In the time that they're waiting, Rachel speculating what's to come, he has a few more drinks of that disgusting whiskey. And they fall into a comfortable silence. She'll occasionally smile his way, shyly, and then he'll smile back. After that they return to what they're doing – Rachel watching the performances on stage as Finn watches Rachel.

He goes back for another drink, taking a little longer this time, and when she turns to see why, she finds him talking to someone. Only, it's too dark in that part to see properly, and even straining her eyes can't help her to make out a face. So she waits for him to come back, trying her best to act nonchalant as he returns at the table, his glass clattering against the wood. When she lifts her gaze, and finds his own intent on her, she offers a tiny smile. He looks… nervous.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

Finn nods quickly, breathing out, "it's almost time."

Her face scrunches up in confusion, "time for what?" But Finn's not listening; he's pulling out the letter once again, while she leans forward with interest in her eyes.

"Blaine asked me to do something for you, you know that much." She nods. "Well, he told me about this girl called Rachel Berry, and he said, this girl can sing – that she lights up the room, the _world_, when she sings." Rachel feels her breath hitch in her throat at his words, and she can't but help smile at the memories that the name brings. "He said that her dream was to perform, to sing, on a stage in front of a huge crowd of people." Then his eyes slowly rise to the stage near them, eyebrows rising, "you think she wants to?"

Rachel's eyes bulge. "You want me to - … _here_?" Her gaze falls over the large crowd. "I don't…"

He suddenly frowns, "you don't want to?"

"I want to," she quickly insists, "but… what if I mess up? Or what if they don't like me?" Her insecurities flood her mind, the heavy weight of them making her shoulders slump and frown persist.

Finn nods, like he knows what she's feeling. "There've been times when I've felt like I'm not good enough – a lot of times actually, but…" Reaching out, he wraps his fingers around hers, holding her gaze, "you'll regret it if you don't, trust me." Somehow, his words click in her mind, and she manages a nod. "You'll do it?" She nods again, faster this time.

On their feet in sync, he begins to take her out of the large room and through a maze of smaller ones, clutching onto Finn's hand. "If you hold it any harder, you're gonna break it," he laughs. Rachel moves to release the hold, but he doesn't let her, offering a smile of encouragement.

"I'm nervous," she says, "and I feel really sick."

"Yeah, that's what I feel like before a fight."

Silence.

"I believe in you though."

Rachel lightly laughs, "you've never heard me sing before."

He smiles wryly. "I just have a feeling, you know?"

They slow, and she watches the performance on stage finishing up from her position off in the wings, leaning into Finn slightly and trying to ignore the loud nerves in her body. This is something that she's always wanted to do, and now that she has the chance, she has to grasp it firmly and take it. Rachel reminds herself to thank Blaine, for telling this to Finn, and allowing her to live one of her dreams, even if she never did become the famous singer like she'd always wanted.

It's all a blur really, the only thing that's she can focus on is Finn's hand in hers, and she barely hears when someone introduces her onto the stage. Finn whispers 'break a leg' in her ear, before giving her a gentle push forward. Her legs finally kick in, taking small steps forward. Can everyone tell how nervous she is? Can they see her fingers shaking uncontrollably?

The music begins, and she smiles when she realizes Blaine must have told Finn what song she'd sing, and the familiarity of said song brings her more comfort.

She takes a deep breath, and she sings.

She sings her heart out.

From the side lines, Finn watches with pride in his water eyes, an irreplaceable smile on his face.

Exhilarating.

That's the only word that she can think to describe this.

The stage lights blind her, so she can hardly see the audience, the awe of Finn's face, but she doesn't care. She feels an overwhelming sense of belonging, and a bursting of happiness. For once, she's the center of attention, and she wants to keep that hold on the audience for as long as possible, basking in the glorious feeling that it brings. She feels important, she feels _special_.

Her voice rises out above everything, so strong and powerful that even _she's_ never heard it this good, and that too makes the smile on her face grow.

It's as though each of her senses are heightened, shivers rolling down her back as she lives out a dream that she never imagined she'd get to do, and it's more than she could have ever imagined, also. The thrill, the adrenaline, the mad racing of her heart – she loves it all.

And then the song ends, and she takes the biggest breath as she hears the sound of applause and the cheering. It takes all she has not to jump up and down in sheer joy and excitement. Instead, she gives a dainty bow, grinning from ear to ear, before she begins to walk off stage, barely able to feel her legs as she moves.

She's straight into Finn's arms, words flowing out of her mouth at a crazy speed, but all he does is laugh and hold her.

"Thank you," she finally tells him. Honestly, that's probably one of the best experiences in her life, and she never wants to forget it. She has Finn to thank for that.

He shrugs, "nah, Blaine told me to do something like this for you – he'd mentioned it before he left, actually."

Rachel nods, trying to ignore the feel of loss that accompanies the mention of Blaine's name. The sadness is getting smaller, but it's still ever present. "But you were the one who made it happen," she tells him, beginning to smile again as she smiles from his arms. They remain close, and she thinks her heart is beating quickly for another reason now.

"Finn!" The pair turns in unison when they hear the voice, and then Finn's arms sweep away from around her and he's embracing someone just as quickly.

When he stands back, she gets a better view of the girl. She's young, most likely as young as her, with long, mousey brown hair and a wide smile. The girl seems familiar, and then she realizes that she was one of the ones performing earlier. As Rachel watches the two greet with a hug, she feels slightly envy sparking up, and immediately shakes her head. It's not like Finn is _hers_. Though what's going on between them is confusing, and said confusion is often frustrating, she shouldn't be getting jealous when he talks to other women.

Hiding her frown, she approaches them, and looks to Finn for explanation.

"Rachel Anderson," he smiles at her, "meet Marley Rose."

If Rachel is anything, it's an actress, and she throws on a large smile as she greets Marley, holding out her hand for her to shake. _A weak handshake_, she thinks, _that doesn't show a very strong character._

"Marley was ... err, the person who made it so you could sing tonight," he says, "she owed me a few favors."

"Oh," she says, stopping herself from questioning what kind of favors. Blaine always said that she was nosy, but now she's proving him wrong. She can keep herself from questioning every little thing.

The girl, Marley, smiles at her again and says, "you were really good out there. Have you done anything like this before?"

Before she can get a word in, to say something without filtering it through her mind first, Finn intervenes, his usual smile tugging at his lips. "Don't boost her ego; we'll never hear the end of it." She scoffs, shocked, and sends a look his way, which only makes Finn laugh even further.

He then makes a hasty exit, to go and see someone over at the bar. Wise choice.

But then that's leaving Rachel with Marley, and she's only just met this girl a couple of minutes ago, having instantly decided that she doesn't like her. There's just something _off_ about the way she looks at Finn, and Rachel doesn't like it.

"Finn seems happy."

"Why wouldn't he be?" she says, almost sounding defensive.

Marley blinks, then the smile quickly returns. "It's just," she pauses, "I'm not used to seeing him _this_ happy all the time. He's a changed man." She watches the way that Rachel's expression changes, forehead creasing, "I suppose that you're the reason."

"_Me_?"

"Yes," she laughs, as though it's silly for Rachel to even doubt that. "He comes in here a lot, has done so for years, especially after…" She pauses, unsurely.

"I know," Rachel says, "I know about Amie."

She nods, "well, after that, he'd come here, practically every night, to just sit at a table in the corner and drink, so that he could forget. Then he started boxing – he had so much anger, he lost _so much_, but he got a little bit better, and he came here less. Still, he always seemed so sad and he was also always alone. I'd talk to him sometimes, and I'd listen to him." She smiles, "he was distant though, and then a few months ago, he started coming here every night again, looking confused, angry. He wouldn't tell me what was wrong."

Rachel finds herself intrigued by what she's telling him, to be hearing about Finn from another person's perspective. She seems fond of him, but at the same time worried about his behaviour, his reluctance to forget the past. Sounds a lot like her.

"But he did," Marley continues, "eventually. He told me about you – he was angry at himself for feeling so drawn to you, after everything with Amie, and then knowing who your family is, how different the two of you are. "

"Yeah," she nods, remembering the way he'd acted toward her, how he'd lash out completely unprovoked and then a few days later be kind to her. "Then what happened?" she questions curiously.

"I told him that he was never going to get anything by just sitting around and drinking all day, and that, if he thinks he has feelings for you, irrespective of who you are, he should face that and deal with it. And I thought I'd gotten through to him," she says. "But I don't know, he came back even angrier the next day."

She contemplates something for a moment, "it wasn't until a few weeks ago until I saw him smile again, and he's been smiling ever since."

"We had a fight then," she suddenly says, wearing a pensive expression. "He said that he knew what it was like to be in love with somebody that he couldn't have… and then we kissed." She repeats her own words in her mind. "He loves me?" Rachel whispers out. She turns up to Marley again, but finds the girl staring over her shoulder. Turning, she spies Finn in her direct gaze, smiling toward her, and she feels her heart swell. She thinks she just might love him too.

Rachel looks back at Marley, "thank you, it was nice talking to you."

"I'm glad that I finally got to meet you," she admits, pulling Rachel in for a hug, which the girl quickly reciprocates. Not before long, she's with Finn again, and he sets them back at their table, a glass for her with some red liquid in. She stares at it suspiciously.

"It's wine," he explains with a bemused expression, "since you didn't like the whiskey, I thought I'd get something else. I can't have you drinking water all night." She doesn't bother to protest, and nervously takes hold of the glass which is then pressed to her lips. The initial taste isn't nearly as bad as the whiskey – in fact, it's rather sweet - and the next sip tastes even better. After a few more sips, she smiles against the rim of the glass toward Finn, who grins at her and down some more of his whiskey.

* * *

Her head feels light, the world blurring slightly every time she turns it, but she just keeps walking and holding onto Finn. Marley's words stick in her head, unable to shake them away. It's not the first time someone had said something like that to her – Blaine's letter, for instance, where he'd said that Finn cares for her.

And, in some levels, Finn's been subconsciously telling her, too. The touching, the gazes, they mean _something_. Only her slightly inebriated brain can't seem to figure out what they mean.

Even now, he's holding her against him, his hand occasionally brushing lower and lower, and she knows he can't deny anything, not now. "Finn," she says, loud and clear, causing his head to shoot in her direction, cocking to the side in confusion when he notices the uncertainty in her face. He's been drinking, though it doesn't affect him much from what she's seen. Like her Papa, he must have grown a high tolerance to the stuff over the years, which is better than being so drunk that you can barely remember your own name, which she remembers happening to Blaine once. After that, he'd been in so much trouble he'd vowed never to drink again.

"Rach?" he slows them in their walking, eyes intent on her.

She closes her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts, but they're whizzing around so quickly and uncontrollably that she finds it difficult to pinpoint the right one. Eventually, after a tense few moments, she does, and it bursts out, "what are we?"

Finn frowns, "what?"

"You and me? What are we?"

It's obvious from his face that he's not egging onto her meaning, so she sighs and adds, "are we… together, or… or not?" The realization strikes him, and word vomit strikes her. "Because you keep kissing me, and it feels good, but I don't know what it means. Whether you like me in _that_ way or it's just… just – I don't know. But one minute we'll be really close and then I'll do something, like talk about feelings and you'll close off."

The words are shot at him at a hundred miles an hour, and his mouth falls slightly open as she speaks. At the same time, he starts to frown, his eyebrows knotting together beneath the crease of his forehead. "I don't want to talk ab – "

"But _I_ do!" she snaps back before he even has the chance to finish. "I want to know what you're thinking, Finn – how you feel about me. I just don't want to be left in the dark about this anymore."

"You already know that I care about you."

"Yes," Rachel says, "but _how_ much? As much as I care about you?

He pauses, swallowing the rising lump in his throat. "More than I should." And with that, he is walking once more, only faster than before, and her tiny strides can barely keep up with him. But she does her best.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she shouts after him, not understanding.

Finn throws a look over his shoulder, seeing her determined expression, all the while wearing one himself. "Leave it, Rachel."

_How_ can she? Her insistent need to know is not going to let her lose this battle, nor is her stubbornness. She lets out a low growl, and quickens her advance. Unfortunately, his steps become faster, too, and it's a cat and mouse game as they head in the direction of what she supposes is his apartment. Not that she thinks about that – she's still mulling over his words. How can he care for her more than he should? It just doesn't make sense.

"Finn," she calls again. "You can't just walk away from me! I need to go home."

"I'll take you home," he says, "just not yet. I just need to… to…"

"To what? To run away from your feelings again?" She shakes her head, staring at him incredulously, "that's what you're _literally_ doing right now. Running away from me, and your feelings for me." He carries on walking. "Finn, you can't keep doing this!"

Rather childishly, he shouts back, "yes I can." Rachel wonders how things escalated so quickly – all she wanted to do was to know if he'd ever want something more. Despite knowing how dangerous it could be, and how difficult too, deep in her heart she wants to be with Finn, she knows it. All that time to herself has left her to do nothing other than dwell on her feelings, and they're so strong that she doesn't ever think they'll go away.

She wants Finn Hudson, and the most frustrating thing is that he wants her too, but he doesn't want to give into his own stubbornness.

Thank god she's just as stubborn, maybe even more so.

"Finn!" she keeps calling, watching the way his body becomes tenser and tenser. By the time they reach his apartment, even _she's_ sick of hearing her own voice.

He leaves the door wide open for her, which means he wants her to follow him, right? See? Back and forth with him.

She follows, and finds him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He doesn't acknowledge her enter; only continues to stare ahead with his bottom lip between his teeth and a thoughtful expression. Rachel frowns, wondering how to approach him when he's like this. Clearly being confrontational does nothing other than irritate him, so maybe a more delicate advance is required here.

"Finn," she starts softly, hoping to attract his gaze at some point. Right now he's doing a pretty good job at avoiding even looking at her, for he probably knows that it'll be harder to do this if he were. "Finn," she says more firmly, "why do you keep running?"

He turns from her, giving the girl the cold shoulder, but she isn't going to just give up, not this easily. Taking a step forward, she glares his way, "I'm not leaving until you tell me." Rachel stubbornly crosses her arms across her chest and sets her jaw.

His sigh is easily heard, "it's stupid. _I'm_ stupid."

"No," she instantly disagrees, reaching out a hand to gently wrap around his shoulder. A small bit of tension breaks away at her touch, "not at all."

"Yes I am!" he shouts, and she jumps back, eyes widening slightly,

"Don't raise your voice, Finn," she tells him, since it reminds her all too much of when her Papa does; she doesn't like that at all. "Please."

"I know that it frustrates you when I get like this. I hate that, Rachel, making you feel like that. I'm not supposed to – I'm supposed to make you feel _good_ things, happy things."

"You do!"

"Not enough," he finally looks at her, Rachel's heart feeling like it's cut in two at the sight of the tears brimming in those hazel eyes. "Like today, you were so happy, so beautiful out there on stage, and then I had to go and ruin it by being _me_ again."

She shakes her head defiantly. "Hey, you haven't ruined anything. I was the one who mentioned us – "

"And I snapped! You just wanted a normal conversation about what's going to happen but you couldn't have that because I'm so fucking scared that if I do let myself love you as much as I want to, then everything is going to get messed up. And I don't want that to happen Rachel, not to _you_."

The information takes a few minutes to sink it, before she lets out a shuddery breath. "It's understandable," she says, "after what happened with Amie, of course you're going to have issues…"

"_Issues_?" he scoffs, "I'm screwed up."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am, Rachel!" Again, the tone of his voice surprises them both, and he shakes his head, beginning to apologize.

"No," she starts, "you can't keep doing this, Finn. It's gone on far too long." The tears rolling down her cheeks are easily ignored as she speaks, "you're _not_ going to lose me. I'm not going anywhere Finn." She lets out a hollow laugh, "you couldn't make me leave if you tried, and while you do this to yourself, the constant back and forth, I'm going to be here, waiting for you." She swallows the lump in her throat, "but I can't wait forever, and you can't be scared of losing me for the rest of your life, because that fear – _that's_ going to make you lose me. Do you understand?"

She watches as the wheels turn in his mind, the decisions are made, and in an instant Finn swoops forward and attaches his lips to hers with ferocity, the mixing of both their tears salty on their lips. Rachel moans against his mouth, her hands rising and resting on his neck, right thumb gently rubbing the soft skin beneath her fingers. "I can't lose you," he whispers against her lips, "I can't."

"You won't," she says back, eyes closing, "I'm yours."

And then she feels his hands pick her up, steady against his chest, and she barely realizes that he takes them to his bedroom, dropping her down first onto the large bed. She leans up again, joining their lips the way they're supposed to be together, and smiling as his arms slide around her small body.

A part of her should be nervous, but her heart knows that this is _right_ – whatever is going to happen is meant to be. When she catches the way Finn is looking at her, her whole body screams out for more, and she deepens the kiss, pulling him down on top of her. She feels something hard brush against her thigh, and stops, suddenly the fear kicking in. What if she does something wrong?

Finn seems to notice her hesitation, kissing away the worry lines on her forehead, before moving down to her neck and finding a sensitive spot. Her hips buck against his, and Rachel turns away in embarrassment at her behaviour, yet Finn laughs, "it's okay. I feel like that too." Then he kisses her again, hands groping her breasts over her dress. This time, she doesn't stop him. It feels good, she realizes, a wanton moan escaping her lips as he does so.

He looks at her face, at her blown out pupils and her flustered expression, and smiles, before kissing her again. "I'm going to take your dress off, okay?"

Those nerves hit again, but one look into his eyes and she knows that she can't say no. She's _his_, and she wants this. With a nod of approval, he reaches down to the zipper and slowly, _teasingly_ slow, pulls it down, his fingers making a trail down her side. Then he begins to slip it off, over her shoulders first – where he kisses each inch of skin as it's exposed – and next off her breasts, eyes widening at the sight of them. He kisses them, too, and makes her cry out his name over and over.

She helps him shimmy off the dress the rest of the way, feeling decisively exposed in just her underwear, while Finn's eyes practically worship her body. For a moment, she feels self-conscious, wondering if he's changed his mind now that he's seen her, but Finn's lips finds hers again, and he breathes out, "perfect," to her.

When his fingers find her panties, and the wetness lying beneath them, she gasps at the intense feeling. "Finn," she whines out, chest heaving.

He's straddling her on the bed, but he pulls back for a moment to hastily rid himself of his shirt and slacks, throwing them to the side. Peering at him, her eyes are instantly drawn to the bulge in his underwear.

"It's okay to be nervous," he gently whispers to her. She nods, and waits for him. He takes a moment to stare down at her, as if savoring everything, and smiles to himself.

Rachel breathes harder as he begins to pull off her panties, bringing them down her legs until they fall off her ankles, and then he takes in a deep breath. All she can think about is that she needs him, and _now_. With the little that she knew about sex, she didn't know that you could feel _this_ worked up without actually having done much, and she needs a release from the tight tension within her. "Finn, _please_," she says.

He nods, once again taking the time to relax her body, his mouth and tongue working wonders to expel all her nerves.

Then he brings down his own underwear and Rachel finds herself staring. How is _that_ going to fit in _her_?

"Shhh," he kisses her hairline, and she feels Finn's manhood against her leg, hard and thick.

"Please," she says again, almost begging.

One final kiss. "This is going to hurt, okay?"

Yes, yes. "Just do it."

She feels Finn down there, lining himself up with her entrance, and then in one swift motion he's inside her, and she lets out a small whimper at the pain. It's not so painful, but the feeling of him stretching her so much is uncomfortable, and every time she wiggles her body a little, she feels a wince come on.

"Are you okay?" his hot breath on her face sends shivers down her spine. Her hands cling to him, eyes screwed shut.

Rachel nods furiously, as if telling herself that there's no pain. He can tell that there is. He waits.

And then. "Okay, you can move now, but… gently, please." Finn does as she says, the first few thrusts in and out still making the girl wince, though soon the dull ache turns into something else, into that good feeling again, and she raises her hips to get more of the sweet friction. He's panting, loud in her ear, and sometimes letting out a little grunt or two.

As he pumps into her again, he drops a hand down to her clit, rubbing at her, and her moans easily return.

But as quickly as it began, it's over, with Finn spilling inside of her and his exhausted body dropping against hers. She's still tense with wanting, not quite having the release that she needed, though still tired herself. Once he's recovered, he lowers himself between her legs, and Rachel's eyes bulge when she sees he's going to use his _mouth_ on her. Yet the minute his lips connect with her swollen clit she forgets everything and basks in the pleasurable feeling.

Her hands clutch at his hair, hips bucking upwards and she cries out for more, chanting his name over and over. When his tongue dips inside her, she almost screams out in pleasure and she soon falls over the edge, Finn's mouth helping her ride out her orgasm.

Completely speechless, she stares at the ceiling with her eyes blown open, while Finn shimmies into her side.

They don't say anything. They don't need to, but he does kiss her cheek softly, and her lips tug up into a smile.

* * *

**Please review :)**

**And since this is most likely going to be my last update before Christmas, Happy Christmas to all my wonderful readers! I hope you get everything that you want **


	14. XIV

**I hope everyone had a good Christmas (or Hanukkah, or whatever holiday you may celebrate :)) **

**Once again, thank you to my amazing Lucy for beta'ing. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

She doesn't remember falling asleep, but then hands are suddenly shaking her and she nuzzles her face into the pillow. "Rachel," a voice lulls her from her sleepiness, "you need to get up." After a small groan of protest, she feels Finn roll her over in the bed, the cold air hitting her naked form, and that's when her eyes shoot wide open. She springs up, bringing the cover with her and hiding all her exposed skin

"What?" she asks tiredly, peering to the window where she sees it's still dark, and she then turns back to find Finn picking up her clothes from the floor to drop them before her.

"Get dressed, we need to get you home."

Her sleepy brain doesn't realize the urgency in Finn's tone and she slowly reaches out for her underwear, her eyes drooping closed again. As she sits forward, her lower body aches a little, and she's reminded of what had happened between her and Finn merely a few hours ago, a blush tinting her face. Before tonight, she'd only known the basics of sex, and that only came from an awkward conversation with Blaine when she'd asked him where babies came from. He'd done his best to explain it to her, all the while drowned in embarrassment. Still, nothing in her wildest dreams could have lived up to the true event, the feelings – both emotional and physical – were overwhelming, leaving her in mind numbing pleasure, and the way that Finn treated her so carefully, so lovingly… Well, there's a reason for that, isn't there? They didn't just have sex, they made love. They finally surrendered to their feelings and showed that love through the most vulnerable of acts.

She smiles, now with her dress back on and feeling decisively less exposed, and she finds Finn smiling at her, too. His hair is messy atop his head; she doesn't even want to know what hers looks like. But, as Finn gently takes her hand to pull her off the bed, she doesn't care so much and lets him do so.

"What time is it?" she asks him.

He quickly says, "A little before one. We have to hurry back to yours, and you have to be quiet, okay?" Finn stresses quiet, as though she wouldn't quite get the point. She can be quiet when she wants to be, thank you very much.

Rushing around the apartment to get his shoes on, and then his jacket, he throws one over to her and is ushering her out of the door before she even gets a chance to blink. She realizes with a smile that it's the jacket he'd let her wear once before, quickly shrugging on the garment and letting Finn's scent overpower her mind.

"You look happy," he comments as they walk, hurriedly, down the street.

"I am."

"And why's that?" he questions, a smirk growing.

"You – what you did back there…" she bites her lower lip, "what _we_ did."

He's silent for a few moments, and she can see the thoughts going on behind his expression. Finn then says, "So you'd… you'd want to do it again."

The way she blushes furiously is almost embarrassing, but it's just that she didn't even think that far ahead, that Finn would want to be with her in _that_ way again. "Yes," she nods, "I mean, the way you made me feel… - I've never felt so good in my entire life." Bowing her head shyly, she tells him, "I want to feel like that again, with you." She honestly doesn't think that it would have been as amazing as it was if it had been with another person, someone who she doesn't seem to share this type of connection with.

His hand brushes against hers as they walk, "I meant what I said Rachel. I – I _can't_ lose you, I don't know what I'd do." Turning, she stares into his eyes and finds them rooted with an intense look, the slight appearance of tears something else that she notices. He then says, quietly, "Rachel, I love you. A-and I know that I've acted stupid toward you. I lash out, but that's because… us being together, it scares me. What could happen to you if anyone ever found out."

She feels her frown remain – what _would_ happen to her if they were found out? She and Finn aren't married, and she knows what they call girls who have sexual relations with a man out of wedlock. Is she one of those girls? Is she as scandalous as they're made out to be? But then she looks to Finn, and she knows that loves him too. Surely people should focus more on the love that surrounded their actions, rather than their marital status.

"Then what are we going to do?" she asks him cautiously.

Finn sighs, mulling over the options.

"I want to be with you," Rachel admits, "I want to be able to kiss you when I want, see you when I want. I want to be yours, Finn."

"You do?"

"Once Blaine told me what love is," she begins, "I didn't understand then – I couldn't understand."

"What did he say?"

Rachel smiles serenely, "he said that it was like breathing again for the first time, as though falling in love breathes a new life in you."

He sighs softly, "…and?"

"That's how I feel when I'm with you," she admits, "I feel like an altogether new person, someone who doesn't have to be told what to do, who isn't controlled by another person. When I'm with you, I feel _free_." For the first time in her life she's felt like she can do anything, _be_ someone other than Michael Anderson's daughter. Now she truly understands why Blaine left, how he gave up so much, because that taste of freedom is so sweet, so rewarding after all these years under their Papa that he couldn't give it up for anything. Not her, not the city he grew up in, or the stable life he had.

And now, more than anything, she wants to join him in said freedom, for her one chance to truly be happy. Peering up at Finn, she knows that she couldn't be happy without him there, that leaving him would be like leaving a huge gap in her heart – that's why Blaine took Kurt, because he was the _one_ thing he couldn't live without.

"One day I will be free," she says determinedly.

He tilts his head, trying to join her train of thought. "Rachel?"

Now she completely stops, craning her neck to stare up at Finn, knowing in her heart that this man is her future. "I'll get to San Francisco, to Blaine and Kurt – I don't know how or when, or anything about the journey, but I'll see my brother again, and we can be free together." She smiles, an action full of hope, "and I want you there by my side."

There is no hesitance in his response, his expression, and he nods "if I got Kurt and Blaine there, then I can sure as hell get us there."

The hope springs again, and her smile grows, thinking that she'll see her brother again, content with the knowledge that she won't be under the watchful eye of her Papa or those like him. She'll be her own person. In her burst of joy, she pulls Finn down for a tight hug, arm hanging from his torso as he gently embraces her back. Finn closes his eyes as they do so, pressing a feather light kiss to her forehead.

"We'll get there," he promises, the words a mere whisper on his lips.

* * *

She chews carefully on her breakfast as she glances from it to her Papa and then back again. He has a newspaper to his face, the paper crinkling each time a page is quickly turned. When Rachel had seen him that morning as she came downstairs, and were sure that he had not noticed her in return, she'd almost turned straight around and returned to her room, but convinced herself against it. Now, stuck in an awkward silence, she wishes that she had.

Her fork scrapes against the plate, the sharp sound making her wince slightly, and her Papa starts to lower his newspaper, eyes keen on her. Rachel avoids his stare, gaze on her breakfast. He places the paper on the table, reaching out for his mug of coffee. She finds herself watching his movements in silence, but the second his stare crosses with hers, Rachel looks down again.

"I'm," he clears his throat with another gulp of coffee, "having a meeting today, in the house." She frowns, wondering why he choose the house of all places – at work there are enough rooms to home a meeting, rooms that are much bigger and more equipped for such things. "I don't want to be disturbed Rachel, nor do my associates, so I'd appreciate it if you kept quiet, hmm?"

She nods her head, "yes Papa."

He continues, his voice authoritative, "I've already informed Miss Shelby of the meeting, so she knows to keep you to quiet activities during your studies."

Again, she finds herself saying, "yes Papa." Rachel speaks almost timidly.

"Good, "he says curtly. He's on his feet now, straightening his tie and smoothing out his suit. "I'll be in my office. Once you've finished go and get yourself ready for Miss Shelby."

"Okay," she replies quietly, watching as he picks up the once neglected paper, shoves it under his arm, and leaves the room. Rachel can hear the sound of his footsteps drop away until there's nothing but silence surrounding her. Same as usual then. Each day is so dull and repetitive that they seem to blur into one another, while her nights are a different story. Just seeing Finn appear is enough to set her heart beating frantically like there's no tomorrow, and one meeting is never like another. Sometimes, if they dare to, they'll leave the house again, go to his apartment, or they might go to one of the many clubs that Finn knows about. It's exciting and scary at the same time, but with Finn by her side she feels all the fears about this new world disappear.

But right now she's stuck in her monotonous day schedule and as usual goes to ready herself for her classes, and she knows that without her music lessons everything will seem that much more dull and uneventful.

While she waits for Miss Shelby in the living room, she's aware of her Papa greeting his business associates, all smiles and warm greetings as they flock in one after the other, Mr Fabray making his appearance, and even Mr St James and Mr Evans. As quickly as they came, they move to a private room to discuss business, and she loses interest in them, too. Besides, she ends up spending a good hour writing with her tutor watching over her.

That is, until she grows restless and needs to walk around, moving toward the kitchen to get herself a drink of water. Just as she's on the way, the sound of voices seems to lull her in the opposite direction, and she's curiously moving nearer them. Some are more flustered, while at the same time calm, soft voices join the conversation, leaving Rachel to wonder what they're discussing.

She's surprised to find the door not fully closed, especially when her Papa had stressed that he didn't want to hear any unnecessary noise during the meeting.

"… if we give half of the stock to Karofsky, he can distribute them for us."

"No," the insistent voice of her Papa arrives, strong like always, "we can't trust Karofsky. He lost me a lot of money last time, dammit, and I will not be made a fool of again." Frowning, she presses her ear further against the door, wondering what they're talking about. Her Papa's work has always seemed uninteresting to her (why should she care about it when it's never going to affect her?) yet she can't stop herself from listening.

A laugh barks out, "I told you, Michael, you shouldn't trust that scum with the goods. They're greedy, dirty cheats."

There's an overall murmur of agreement.

Until, "I think you're forgetting that those greedy, dirty cheats are our clients. After all, what use do we have for the stock? We're good men – we have no need for weapons in our homes. But they – those rats – they fight and kill each other, don't they?" He pauses, "like wild animals."

"And they're willing to pay a lot of money for our materials," her Papa brings up, "especially for the good quality ones, like ours. You won't get finer quality anywhere else in New York." She finds her frown deepening. Weapons? The thought of one human wanting to hurt another makes her feel sick and uneasy, but she pushes those feelings back to concentrate further on the conversation.

In her haste, she pushes on the door, causing it to creak loudly, and the silence that follows leaves her frozen in fear.

She hears footsteps, and she starts to scream at herself to move, to hide, but she's as still as a statue. The door shoots open, Rachel finding her gaze rising up to that of her Papa's glower. His nostrils flare, his hand reaching out to grab her arm and drag her from earshot of the others.

"What are you doing, Rachel?" he hisses at her, to which she only shakes her head, too scared to summon words, before her Papa moves to a more pressing matter, "what did you hear?" Silent again, "tell me!"

"I – I, nothing!" she squeaks.

His hand curls around her jaw, holding it tightly, "what do you mean nothing? How am I supposed to know how long you were standing out there?"

Rachel shakes her head, which is hard with his hand clamped around her, "nothing, I swear Papa." She gulps, "please let go, it hurts." He doesn't, and she finds herself unable to flee. His hard gaze lingers on her face for a few moments, trying to deduce whether or not she's lying.

"I was just there for a few seconds, that's all," she insists, closing her eyes when a flash of anger surges through her Papa's.

The relief that washes over her when she's released from his grip is immense, and she peeks one eye open to dare a look at him. He takes in a deep breath, clearly trying to hold in his anger. She's grateful for that, though can't help wondering why he's so worried about her overhearing them. He almost looks _scared_.

"Go," he orders her, "go back to Miss Shelby."

Nodding quickly, she is more than happy to be away from him, shaking off the feeling that something is wrong from the back of her mind.

* * *

She slowly rolls to her side, closing her eyes as nausea drowns her entire body, and the next thing she knows she's headed full pelt toward the bathroom. Once there, she throws herself down to the floor and proceeds to throw up in the toilet. The action seems to drain her physically, and she finds herself slumped against it, her arms barely able to hold herself up.

Rachel thinks that this must be one of the worst feelings in the world, and she can't wait for her illness to pass. She'd only caught it from one of the maids, who in turn had brought it in from one of her children, and now she's spent the last couple of days being sick at the slightest of things, like a strong smell. She just can't stomach it, so she's stuck to keeping in her room while the illness wears off and she returns to her usual, bubbly self. It couldn't come any faster, really.

Now finished, she trudges miserably back to her bed and lies down. It's strange, she begins thoughtfully, that after she's thrown up she feels fine, if a little tired but that's not entirely worrying. She could be tired from stress, the stress of thinking about what her Papa is hiding, or the stress of keeping Finn's night time visits a complete secret, and fretting over someone seeing. No one ever does, since he arrives while all the staff are asleep – and most likely her Papa, too – yet Rachel can't keep the anxieties from her mind. It's all so dangerous, what's she doing. She's in a sexual relationship with a man who's deemed 'beneath her' by society, someone that she shouldn't bother giving the time of day to. But she can't help where her heart lies, and it just so happens that it has chosen the tall, charming boxer as its home.

She supposes that another reason for her tiredness is staying awake all the time that Finn is there, sometimes into the small hours of the night. They talk in hushed tones, talking of anything and everything, and then when they're not talking they kiss; something that Rachel has grown to become addicted to – those sweet little kisses that she steals from Finn Hudson; they're worth all the worry and stress over what could happen to them if caught. Not only do they kiss but now their relationship has evolved into something more physical and they can often become swept up in the moment. Each time, Finn helps to dissolves her worries as he gently and lovingly makes love to her, until they both reach that euphoric high that she never knew existed before Finn.

Rachel begins to smile as she thinks of Finn, though it disappears when another wave of nausea hits her out of nowhere, but this time she manages to keep everything down. She just lies in bed and waits for the moment that she'll start feeling better again.

To pass the time, she reaches under her pillow and pulls out Blaine's letter again, the one which she'd received only yesterday and must have read more times than she cares to count. But each letter from her brother is a look into his life, something which she cherishes, seeing as she's not so much a part of said life anymore. That greatly saddens her, yet it is what it is, and it's not like she's never going to see him again.

Her eyes glance over the words with a smile.

_Miss R Berry,_

_God, I miss you so much. Do you remember that week - it must be years ago now - when Father grounded me for sneaking out, and I cried for the whole week. Well, that was all because I missed Kurt so much, and we'd just started our relationship together – that new shiny stage of the relationship, where you can't keep your hands off each other… I'm sorry; you probably didn't want to know that._

_But that feeling, while it's different here, because yes, you're not my significant other, it's still similar, as the feeling is just as powerful and it hurts as much._

_I hope everything back in the city is okay. I hope Finn is treating you right, though I suspect he is (you're not the only one who writes me letters. Finn tells me everything that you don't)._

_I'm glad you enjoyed singing on a stage. I know it wasn't a big stage with a huge audience like you always wanted, but it's a start and who knows, maybe someday soon you'll be singing on Broadway! When that happens, and it will, Kurt and I will be on the front row. You know you'll always have me there to support you and your talent._

_We both have jobs over here now, though it took us a while to get them, as we've had to watch our backs, just to make sure nobody is following us - you know what Father is like. Kurt's Father is keeping an eye out in New York for any happenings like that. So far nothing. It's as if they don't care that we've disappeared, and apparently they've created some lie about us going off to school. Honestly I can't say I'm surprised. Father never liked me that much anyway. I've always been a_ _disappointment to him._

_Anyway, our roommate, Santana, when you get to know her, is crazy, and considering being like us is against the law in some places and seriously frowned upon in others, there are a lot of people who are exactly like us here. You can only imagine how jealous Kurt is when she introduces a man to us. It's almost laughable. As if I would ever leave him!_

_The jobs we have aren't exactly amazing, Kurt works in an office five days a week and he absolutely hates it, but he is pursuing his dream of writing every day. I might be a little biased, but he's amazing. I'll have to send you one of his works at some point, so you can see for yourself._

_I spend a few nights - and weekends - singing at the bar Santana bar tends at, people seem to like me. Maybe I can make a career out of it?_

_All in all, life here is pretty great. Kurt and I are thinking of looking for a place of our own soon, so when you come and visit_ _you might have your own room to stay in!_

_I'll look forward to hearing from you. And if you don't mind, in your next letter send me a recent picture of you and Finn. I'd send one of Kurt and I, but I wouldn't want it to get in the wrong hands._

_I love you with all my heart,_

_Kitten Boy and his Damsel (who isn't in so much distress anymore)_

Rachel grips the letter tightly, trying not to let any of her tears on it, and lets out a content sigh, glad to know that Blaine is happy with his life, with Kurt, just like he'd always wanted to be. He has friends, he has a job, and he's almost got his own place – after only a few months. She's proud of him and the life he has, knowing that he doesn't live under the tyranny that he did their home.

The door handle beings to jingle, startling her. She quickly pushes the letter back under her pillow and turns to find the door opening gently. Miss Shelby walks in, a tray of food in her hands, and she smiles brightly at the sight of Rachel, "how're you feeling?"

"I just threw up again," she grumbles, resting her head against the soft, plump pillow.

The woman places the tray on her bedside table, and is instantly by her side, a hand to her forehead. "Hmm, you still don't have a fever, so I'm thinking that whatever this is will pass quickly." Rachel nods along, pouting to herself as Miss Shelby fusses over her, "now come on, have some of this soup."

She sits herself up in the bed, feeling a whole lot better than she did a few minutes ago, and waits for Miss Shelby to help her. With a spoonful of the hot soup, she inches closer to Rachel to help her with the first mouthful, but as soon as she gets a whiff of the food, her stomach churns harshly. Rachel hastily covers her mouth with her hand, before jumping out of bed and making the usual visit to the bathroom.

There's hardly anything in her stomach at this point, so she's basically dry heaving, but it doesn't make her feel any better. She doesn't even realize when she's crying softly to herself, before she's swept up in someone else's arms. "Shh," Miss Shelby soothes her, patting her back gently.

Rachel closes her eyes and mumbles, "I hate being sick."

"I know," she says, "is that it? Are you only being sick?" As she speaks, she gently stands Rachel on her feet to lead her back to her room. She then gives her the drink of water left on the tray, and Rachel smiles gratefully.

After a large gulp, she replies, "there isn't anything else. I just feel… tired, really tired. And I keep getting sick at the faintest of smells, mostly from food." Bowing her head, she sighs, wishing that she could just rid herself of whatever it is.

Miss Shelby peers down at her thoughtfully, "just that? No headache or sore throat, not even a fever?" Rachel frowns, shaking her head. Really, the only thing that she's feeling is sick and exhausted – isn't that bad enough?

"Why?" she tilts her head curiously to the side, eyes intent on Miss Shelby as she thinks.

"It's just…" she smiles a little uneasily, "they sound like the symptoms of somebody with child."

The words send a cold fear into her heart, and she gapes, wide eyed at the woman. "A child?"

She chuckles, "sweetie, you don't need to worry. I highly doubt that's the case, Rachel." Miss Shelby smiles toward her, patting her back gently in what Rachel supposes ought to be comfort, yet it's anything but. She feels like she can't move, frozen in the moment, and reliving the words said over and over. Babies they… they come from what she and Finn had done, that's what Blaine told her. She doesn't understand how or why that works and produces a child, but she feels sick as she considers the consequence of their actions, and her heart is beating furiously with fear.

What has she done?

* * *

She must have been pacing her room for close to an hour by the time Finn arrives, her anxieties making her feel sick and lightheaded, on top of the nausea she's already experiencing. He smiles to her, something which breaks her heart as she considers what she's about to tell him, what could ruin everything.

"Rachel," he breathes out happily, sweeping her up in his arms before kissing her lips deeply. She allows herself to share his happiness, if only for a few moments, and then the reality of their situation breaks back through and she's scared. He notices quickly, his eyebrows locking together, "is everything okay?"

With a shaky breath, she holds his large hand in hers, taking a few moments to enjoy the protection that his offers, like Finn's touch is a shelter from the rest of the world. She leads him to the bed, hoping that he doesn't feel how her body trembles, before sitting him down. It's easier to look into his eyes from that position, him sat and her standing, so that she can see his reaction to her news.

"What's going on?" He can sense that there's something wrong, seeing that Rachel hasn't said a word yet, nor has she smiled much, and her nerves are radiating off of her at a strong pace. She struggles to reply, not able to find the words, and each second the passes causes the tension to grow between them. "Rachel," he says softly, gripping her hand that slight bit tighter. "Tell me."

The tone to his voice, though gentle, makes Rachel obey his words in an instant. "I think I'm going to have a baby."

He stares at her like she's telling some horrible joke. "W-what?"

Rachel's face crumples with tears, with the worry of the news. And her whole body seems to follow, falling into Finn's arms as she lets each tear roll down her cheeks. What if she is with child? She isn't married, and she's only eighteen years old. Not to mention that she's terrified of what her Papa might say, or do, if he found out. She'd be bringing shame on the family, no doubt, and he's more than willing to do anything to hide said shame. Like how he tells everyone that Blaine left to study in another state, while only few know the truth behind his façade.

In Finn's strong arms, she feels safe, protected, but those feelings can't last forever. Eventually, they'll have to face the consequences and, if they are as she suspects, then a lot of trouble lies ahead for the pair.

She turns to Finn, trying to observe his reaction, but he's a hard book to read. "F - Finn?" she says when she manages to get the tears under control. Upon closer inspection, she realizes that his muscles are tense, face tight with something she can't quite seem to see, before he turns to her, seeing the tears, and his expression softens.

"It's all my fault," he admits, "oh god, I'm so sorry." He drops his head into his hands, and she's almost positive that he starts crying, "I shouldn't have – I'm so stupid. I knew what could happen and I just did it anyway."

But Rachel is quick to correct him, "it wasn't just you." Her voice pulls his head up, his puffy eyes struggling to stay connected with hers as guilt consumes him, so she cups his chin and doesn't let him waver. "It was me, too. I let you, Finn. I could have stopped you, at any point, but I didn't, and now…" Her lower lip trembles with more tears, and she forces the lump in her throat down again, "now, we have to face this, together."

Finn is nodding, but she can see the fear in his eyes as well, an emotion that she'd never expected to see from the man.

"Besides," she whispers, "I may not be – I just… I think so, and… I don't know what to do…"

"It's okay. Just," he closes his eyes, hands shaking, "tell me why you think you are." As he holds her small body against his, his fingers delicately brush the edge of her stomach subconsciously, his eyes glued to her face as he awaits Rachel's words.

"I've been sick for the past couple of days, but not sick like normal, that's what Miss Shelby said. She told me that feeling tired and throwing up the way I am are symptoms of a person being with child." He opens his mouth to speak, just as Rachel continues, "so I-I searched through the books we had, for anything else. I was so scared… I could barely hold the book without my hands shaking, but I found what I needed…"

"Go on," he gently pushes her, a soft kiss left against her temple to keep her calm.

Her breaths are ragged, eyes red rimmed as a never ending stream of tears fall. "I have all the symptoms, Finn. Tired, sick, my…my…" she drops her head in embarrassment, "my breasts are sore… and Finn, I just… I feel different. I'm so scared," she says again, "what are we going to do?"

Those strong arms of Finn's hold her so tightly that she can barely breathe, but she doesn't care as she goes to cry into his shoulder, no doubt drowning his shirt in her tears. What will her Papa say when he finds out? Because this isn't exactly going to remain a safeguarded secret if it is indeed true, and something in her heart tells her that she truly is going to have a baby.

"Hey, hey," Finn cups her chin, trying to be delicate though it's difficult with his trembling fingers. While she's glad to know that she isn't the only frightened one, she feels terrible for making Finn feel such a way. "It's going to be alright."

She stares up at him, "how is it going to be alright?"

"Well… we… we…."

"Papa is going to be so angry," she mumbles when Finn can produce no solution, though she knows that she can't just expect one to miraculously appear. They're in a deep hole, and it's going to take a hell of a lot of get out of it. Just how much, she has no idea - something which worries her to no end.

The next words uttered make her give a tiny gasp of surprise. "He's not going to find out."

"What do you mean? Of course he is. If I don't tell him, then surely he'll realize when I start to look get bigger." But Finn has this expression, one that sends dread surging through her body, "you want me to… to…" She can't even say it, think it. Rachel starts shaking her head in protest, a hand covering her mouth.

His brows furrow, "what?"

Feeling sick again, she forces herself to say those words, "to… k-_kill_ the baby." _If there is one,_ she thinks hopefully, though said hope is easily crushed by that feeling that something is wrong again.

Now Finn's eyes widen, his head shaking frantically. "No, God no – I couldn't ask you to do that, to _you_ or to the… the…" His eyes draw down to her stomach. "Never," he adds.

"Then what?"

Finn lifts his gaze again, their faces held close together and sharing the same amount of pain and worry. But, as he looks into her eyes, a smile finally breaks through those negative feelings. For a moment, she's not so scared. Rachel feels his thumb grazing over the back of her hand, leaving a tingling against the skin that gives her goosebumps and leaves her breathing shallow. "We're going to leave," he says, eyes never leaving her, "we're going to leave here and we're going to go to San Francisco with Blaine and Kurt. It's… _earlier_ than planned, but I need to get you out of here, Rachel." His hand now gently cradles her stomach, "if you 're right about this then I want you and the baby safe, and you're not going to be safe here."

"We're going to go and be with Blaine?" she asks him, tears brimming over once more. The thought of seeing her brother again while at the same time leaving her home is overwhelming, leaving her with a mixture of emotions. She clings onto Finn that little bit tighter.

"Yes, and we'll be together, you and me."

"Really?" she whispers.

He nods eagerly, eyes bright, "I know the timing is bad, and this is all so rushed, and we're scared, too, but this is for the best. It's not like we were never planning to go there anyway."

"But are you happy? Moving to another state, just for me?"

"For you," Finn begins, eyes intent on her, "I'd do _whatever_ it took. I love you, Rachel."

"And I love you."

"Then that's all we need," he says, "and we… we can do this. We'll leave tomorrow night. I can get us a car and some money, and we can leave this place behind us."

Their foreheads meet, eyes following, and there's a moment as they just stare at each other, a silent promise to make this work. "I'm scared," she admits. He nods, the feeling not being exclusive to Rachel, and kisses her softly.

"There's just one more thing we need to do," he speaks, "before we leave. One last thing." Rachel stares up at him, eyes growing in curiosity. He kisses her again. "Marry me," he proposes, staring into her own brown ones deeply, "be my wife, Rachel."

* * *

**Please review :)**


	15. XV

**I'm updating a day early, seeing as I'm so excited to post this last chapter!**

**Thank you to my wonderful, amazing beta Lucy. Without her, I would definitely not have managed weekly updates and a fic which I am very proud of. Love you :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

She stares up at Finn in complete and utter shock, never having expected him to say such things to her. She's sure that this is the part where she's supposed to squeal excitedly and shout out "yes!", but nothing comes out. Someone has just asked her to be their _wife_, and she can barely form a word to reply. It's most likely the rush at which the proposal came, after such a short time of them being together, but she understands why he's doing it. He loves her, he does, and she has no doubt that if he could he would have asked her at some point in the future if this whole drama wasn't happening.

"Finn," she feels herself saying softly, her voice barely audible.

Sensing her hesitance, he leaves a few stray kisses along her cheek, before saying, "I know it's rushed, and it's completely crazy, but you know, it's kind of crazy that against all odds we fell in love, too, so maybe that's just us, our relationship? I've never been all that big on fate and stuff, but maybe, just maybe, the universe meant for this to happen, for us to be a family." He embraces her securely, lips brushing against any exposed skin.

Rachel hums in contentment, finally having mulled over his words. She closes her eyes, lips curving into the sweetest of smiles. "Okay," she agrees, "if you want me, I'm yours. I'll marry you."

"You will?"

"I'd marry you no matter what," Rachel admits, staring at his happy face with her own smile, "any time, any place. As long as it's you, I'd do it in a heartbeat." Leaning that few inches closer, the gap between them disappears and their lips meet in a sweet kiss, both desperate to stay near one another. "I love you," she breathes against his lips, eyes searching for his, and when they find each other they lock in a deep gaze.

"I love you," he repeats, kissing her once more, "so much."

She smiles, "so we're… we're going to get married?" It all seems so simple, saying the words out loud, but marriage – _her_ marriage – is something that she's dreamt about since she was a little girl, down to every little detail. And she knows that the lavish wedding that she'd always pictured isn't on the table right now. A part of her is sad about such, but the bigger part of her, the part that's had to mature so much over these past few weeks, doesn't care all that much, knowing that the material value of the wedding means nothing. They have no one to please, no one to impress (which would surely be the case if her circumstances were much different and her Papa was involved in the planning process) – no one other than themselves. Rachel knows that all she needs is Finn's unwavering love and she's happy.

Finn gives her a soft half smile, "yeah, we're getting married." He finds himself leaning down, pressing feather soft kisses against her shoulders, then along to her collar bone, her sweet taste making him lightheaded. His grip on her tightens. The way his body seems to tense in nerves doesn't go unnoticed by Rachel, and she feels an equally tight knot in her stomach. "We're doing the right thing, aren't we?" he speaks out loud what is being thought by both. He then says, lips twitching in an attempt of a smile, "I just want to do what's right by you, a-and the baby."

Peering up at him, she can see the worries deep in his eyes, alongside his doubts and insecurities, and she'd do anything to chase each one away, but all she can manage is a soft kiss against his jaw, then leaning nearer to him repeat the same sweet kiss to his lips. "You _are_, Finn. Trust me." She gives a shaky smile, "but how – how are we going to do this so quickly? Without anyone knowing?"

"Leave it to me," he assures her, "I can pull a few strings, call in some favors. We'll be fine."

"You promise?"

Finn kisses her forehead, smiling brightly, "promise."

They sit like that for a while, Rachel content in his arms, and Finn's mind deep in thought as he conjures a plan. She lies on the bed, pulling Finn down with her and bringing his arms around her waist. When Finn rests his chin on her shoulder, his hot breath tickling her neck, she smiles and reaches a hand up to caress his cheek.

But he can feel how her body is tenser than normal, and in contrast to her he's frowning, "are you alright, Rachel?"

"I'm just… I'm scared about the future," she admits, slightly twisting her neck to peer his way, "I just have a bad feeling."

"Hey, everything is going to be fine." Finn's hands caress her sides, the pleasurable sensation causing Rachel's eyes to flutter closed, "it'll be just as easy as getting Kurt and Blaine out of here. And then we'll be gone, we'll be together, just like we want."

"What if – "

He cuts her short with soft words and a look, "Rach, don't worry."

"I can't help it," she mumbles.

Finn gazes at her, delicately brushing some of her hair from her face. "Everything is going to be fine. We're going to get married, and then tomorrow night we'll get on the road to San Francisco, to Blaine and Kurt, and our new life together." She smiles again, her hand that's resting above his squeezing tightly at his fingers. "We can do this," he whispers in her ear.

* * *

Rachel moves around her room slowly, brushing her long hair as she does so. She can't stop the way her hands shake, or how the feeling of sickness persists in her stomach. It's only a couple of hours until she's supposed to meet Finn, and she's not dressed, nor has she even spoken to Miss Shelby, like she'd planned. There are things that she needs to say to her before… before she leaves here tonight, _forever_.

Eyeing the bed, she glances over the few dresses fanned out across it, one of which she'll be getting married in. A faint smile grows as she nears them, running her fingers across the nearest and admiring the simple, white dress. She doesn't care about it being expensive, or intricately detailed; all that matters is that she feels beautiful in it as she gets married, which she knows she will. Her smile now grown, she heads back over to her vanity, where she sits herself and stares into the mirror. Instead of seeing the lonely little girl that she used to, a grown woman stares back at her, someone who is going to get the happiness that she craves, and that happiness can be found with Finn.

She feels her hand rise to cradle her stomach, thinking about what she and Finn have created – they've made a life together, a tiny, beautiful baby who's probably so small that they can barely see it right now. Rachel can't help grinning, imaging a small child, with her thick, brown hair, but its Father's dimples and bright smile. Her heart swells at the thought, and she holds her stomach all that more fondly.

"Rachel?"

At the sound of Miss Shelby's voice, she almost jumps out of her own skin, and stares wide eyed toward her tutor. "What're you doing?" she asks, her startled reaction sounding more suspicious than she'd have liked.

"I was just coming to see if you were ready," she smiles, eyes moving over Rachel, "but you're not even dressed." She stops when she sees her holding onto her stomach, and she gently steps nearer, "are you still feeling sick?" The moment she realizes the woman is staring, her hand snaps back to her side and she gets to her feet, though she's still significantly smaller than her. She finds herself gazing up at Miss Shelby, all the things she's wanted to say to her mother whirling around her head in a huge mess of thoughts. And now she's scared, faced with this confrontation, knowing it will be her last chance. "Rachel?" Miss Shelby calls out when she doesn't manage to respond.

"I…" she tries, "I…" Rachel frowns, not used to her words failing her.

But Miss Shelby just smiles and gently places a hand to Rachel's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze, "is everything alright? You know that you can tell me anything, Rachel." She knows, of course she does, but how is she supposed to tell her this? It's the fear of rejection that's kept her revealing what she knows to Miss Shelby, to her _mother_, but after some encouragement from Finn, she'd realized that this is the right thing to do, no matter how scared she is.

She swallows down any of her remaining fears, and finally takes the plunge, "I know that I'm your daughter."

A lot of emotions cross her face: shock; relief; fear and so many others, until she shakes her head slowly. Miss Shelby lets out a long, slow sigh, and then starts to speak. "How did you find out? You weren't supposed to know." Her grip on Rachel's shoulder tightens slightly, face leaning in closer to her.

"I overheard you and Papa – I didn't _mean_ to listen, but I couldn't help it," she admits, bowing her head and trying to ignore the thumping of her heart. But Miss Shelby doesn't seem angry that she knows, on the contrary she's gazing toward her with softness and caring to her expression. "I-I didn't know what to do, so I ran and Blaine – I told him, but I was so confused and – "

"Shh." She finds herself being pulled into the arms of Miss Shelby, completely unresisting as she's held against her. Rachel hadn't realized that there were tears in her eyes until she feels them rolling down her cheeks. As she moves to wipe them away, she's beaten to it as Miss Shelby's soft hand rubs away each other with a gentle touch. "You know," she begins, her own voice seemingly a little choked, "I always imagined what it would be like if I could tell you… but I never, _ever_ thought that you'd know."

She finds herself staring up, her heart clenching tightly, "you were never going to tell me?" More tears spring to her eyes, "d-did you want to?"

"Of course I did!" she defends herself, "ever since the moment you could understand, I wanted to tell you, _so_ much, but," she looks to her softly, "I just couldn't… your Father, he didn't want you to know." That seems about right, she thinks, "h-he didn't want you knowing that your mother was from a lower clas – "

"But I don't _care_ about things like that," she counters, her eyebrows knotting together tightly as she speaks.

"_He_ does though," is the gentle reply. Miss Shelby caresses her cheek with a delicate touch, as though Rachel isn't real and this is all a dream which is at any moment going to vanish. So Rachel just nuzzles further into her, breathing in the scent of her mother, and smiling at the comforting embrace; she's holding her like she's the most important thing in the world.

In that time, more questions come and go, but she only finds herself uttering one. "Ho – how did this happen? I mean, you and Papa – if you weren't married then…" She doesn't want to accuse Miss Shelby of anything, but her curiosity is getting the better of her.

The woman takes in a deep sigh, chest rising and falling slowly, "It's a _long_ story." Rachel can sense the hesitation in her voice, and some little nagging feeling tells her that it's not a nice story either; she begins to question whether it's worth it to hear said tale just to satiate her curiosity. "One that can be saved for another day," she says, "I'm still getting over the shock that…that you know." She hugs her more tightly.

She reciprocates the action, though in the back of her mind there's the incessant voice telling her that there won't _be_ another day for Miss Shelby to tell her the story, that she might not see her again. And it's at that precise moment that she feels the tears brimming in her eyes, feeling as though there's a dark cloud hovering above her, drowning her in a heavy feeling of sadness.

"Rachel? Why're you crying?"

If anything, the amount of care in her voice makes Rachel cry more, her face nuzzling into Miss Shelby's shoulder. "I'm going to miss you," she mumbles, face crumpling up. She must look pathetic, seemingly sobbing for no reason whatsoever, but at least she knows that there's something behind each tear. She truly will miss her, and how good she feels when she's with her, how loved she feels.

"What?" Miss Shelby frowns in confusion toward her.

Rachel finds the words slipping out before she can even think about it. "I'm leaving, tonight."

Her mother gapes at her, though her grip tightens, her reluctance for Rachel to go obvious, "y-you're leaving? What do you mean? _Where_?"

"To San Francisco," she manages out through the tears.

"I don't understand…"

She stares up at her, with her red rimmed eyes and pink face. "Something happened, and I – I need to leave."

Miss Shelby shakes her head slowly, trying to understand what she's told, but it all just seems to random to her. "But why there?"

"Because," Rachel sniffles, "that's where Blaine is."

The reaction is a small gasp, "you know where Blaine is? Rachel… why… why haven't you told anyone this? Your Fath – "

"He can never know! Please, Blaine is safe and he's _happy_."

"And you're going to be with him?" she asks. Rachel notices that she hasn't tried to talk her out of the idea of leaving; instead she's sitting and listening. She finds herself nodding to Miss Shelby, and is about to say something when she continues to speak. "How do you plan on getting there? It's on the other side of the country, Rachel. It's _dangerous_. I-I want you to be happy, but I also want you to be safe."

She waits for the right moment, before taking in a deep breath and saying, "Finn is taking me."

It's clear that the name is recognized by Miss Shelby, who stares at her in complete shock. "You're still seeing that man? Do you know how _foolish_ that is? If someone found out – "

"They're not going to find out," Rachel insists. "We're getting married and we're leaving tonight." The last part is spoken so rapidly that Miss Shelby has to blink a few times, waiting until it's sunk in, and then she just continues to stare at Rachel like she's crazy.

In the end, she brings a hand to her sore forehead and rubs gently at the skin. "Have you… have you thought this through?"

She tilts her head, a defensive look spreading across her face, "I know that this is the right thing to do."

"But Rachel, you don't know enough about this man to marry him," she shakes her head, "I don't understand why you're so eager. You don't want this rash decision to affect your future in a bad way." Rachel visibly deflates, maybe not having considered what would happen if things between her and Finn didn't work out for the better, if some force tore them apart.

Closing her eyes, she tries not to think about that. "All I know is that Finn makes me a better person – he makes me happier than I've ever been, and I like who I am when I'm with him." She pauses, lost in thought, before adding, "and at some point during our time together I fell in love with Finn – I know that I can't live without him. It's like he's part of me." She doesn't quite know if she explained the last part well enough, but Miss Shelby's face softens and she gently runs her fingers through Rachel's soft hair.

"Does he really make you feel like that?"

"Every time we're together," she says, without any form of hesitance.

"Then," Miss Shelby begins decisively, "I can't stop this. I won't stop it." She sighs, "the heart wants what the heart wants."

Rachel feels unbelievably happy upon hearing this, pulling Miss Shelby in for the tightest of hugs, much to the woman's own joy. She closes her eyes, enjoying the sweet moment with her daughter. "Thank you," Rachel whispers, "thank you so much. I – I love you."

Slightly taken aback at first, she is silent, before Rachel shifts in her arms and stares up at her. She glances into the big, brown eyes gazing to her, and smiles, "I love you too. But you have to promise me that you're going to stay safe, Rachel. If anything happened to you…"

"I promise," she says gently, before moving onto another thing she's been meaning to ask. "Will you come… to the wedding?" Rachel questions shyly.

Already trying to hold back the tears, she manages a nod, and hugs Rachel again. This isn't how either had imagined the talk going, but both are left smiling and with their hearts a little less heavy.

* * *

They sneak out of the house as the preparations for one of her Papa's parties are underway, the busy foyer making it ideal to slip through the people and out onto the street unnoticed. Rachel stays close to Miss Shelby's side, still not completely able to believe that she agreed to be with her for this, yet she is beyond happy that she did. Not long after they've started walking, the older woman gently encases Rachel's hand in hers, sending a smile in her direction. Rachel doesn't miss the tears in her eyes.

"Miss Shelby?" she asks, a worried frown worn on her lips.

She smiles down at her, her hand holding Rachel's so tightly. "I'm fine," she insists, using her other hand to wipe at her eyes.

"You're crying."

"But they're not sad tears," she tells Rachel fondly.

Rachel doesn't get the chance to question her further as they reach the cathedral, both staring up at the beautiful building with awe. So entranced, Rachel doesn't notice Finn come up beside her, until he breathes out a soft, "hi." Then she snaps her head in his direction, her grin doubling in size as she takes his appearance in. The sight of him looking so dashing in a suit makes her go slightly weak at the knees, but Finn beats her to the compliment. "You look beautiful." He says, unable to keep his eyes off her.

Blushing under the attention, she feels herself smile and reply, "you look incredibly handsome, too." The pair seems to get lost in each other – though that isn't uncommon for them – but it's not long before Rachel hears Miss Shelby clear her throat behind her. With a sheepish grin, she looks back to the woman, who is gazing at Finn, as though trying to figure him out. "Finn, this is… this is my mom," she tells him, being able to say such a thing making her heart swell in her chest, and looking at Miss Shelby she guesses that she has a similar feeling at being called that.

She turns back to Finn, finding him looking nervously toward Miss Shelby. "It's nice to meet you," he starts, holding out a slightly shaky hand.

It's ignored in favor of a hug, initiated by Miss Shelby, while Finn stands awkwardly, his expression causing Rachel to hide her giggles behind her hand. "Thank you," the woman says, "for taking care of Rachel."

He nods in acknowledgement, now pulling back and bringing himself nearer Rachel once more. He takes a deep breath, eyes rising up to stare at the cathedral, and then he looks down toward Rachel, no hesitation or doubt in his voice when he says, "let's do it, let's get married." The way that he stares at her makes all self-consciousness dissolve away - she feels like the most beautiful girl in the world.

With a look toward Miss Shelby, she finds her smiling at the pair, now clearly convinced that this is the right thing for Rachel, and she nods toward her, giving them her blessing. Rachel beams, takes Finn's hand in her, and lets him lead them inside.

"I have a friend here, he can marry us. When I told him about our situation, he was more than willing to do it," he says happily, and Rachel easily shares said happiness.

The cathedral looks even more beautiful from the moment she takes the first step in; the evening sun is casting a soft light across one side of the magnificent architecture. Every last part of the place is so detailed, so intricate that she could just stare at it for hours on end. She smiles at Finn, squeezing his hand. This really is going to be a perfect wedding.

* * *

Everything is packed, or anything worth taking with her that is, and now she's staring at them all, wondering what it's going to be like to leave this life behind. Of course, it'll be better, she knows that, but leaving behind this life for a completely new one… it's all so scary and daunting, like walking into the unknown.

At least with Finn by her side the whole way, it won't be as terrifying. They can start this new life _together_, as husband and wife, and she knows that they're both willing to do anything to make it work, for the both of them. And for their baby, too. Subconsciously, she fiddles with the ring around her neck, itching to wear it and show it off to the world, but she knows that it's a foolish thing to do, especially at her Papa's party, where he might see and question her about it. No, she'll just wait until tonight, when they leave here for good, when she doesn't have to worry about what her Papa could do.

Now clad in a different dress – a soft pink party dress – she gets ready to go and join her Papa downstairs, for the last few hours she'll be in this house, before it's time to go.

With one last glance at her bags, she turns and leaves her room. The party is in full swing by now (it'd just been starting when she'd returned home before, thankfully Miss Shelby providing an alibi for her) and she easily slips into the crowds. Due to the abundance of people in the usually empty house, the air around her is stifling to the point where she has to constantly fan herself.

As usual, Blaine's presence is missed, Rachel knowing that with her brother there the party wouldn't be so bland, so lifeless, but the knowledge of seeing him soon brings happiness so strong and unyielding that she's smiling brightly to herself that she earns a few stares. She doesn't care. Tonight, it'll all be over then, and her new life begins. And she won't ever have to be around people like this again.

Her smile is soon usurped by a slight frown when the feeling of nausea returns. Though it seems to be slowly getting better, there are still the occasional moments when it strikes, and it's just her luck that one of these moments is now, right in front of her Papa. She gently places her hand over her mouth, trying to take control over the strong feeling. It takes a few moments, but at least it's passing and she hasn't been sick, which she's thankful for – such a thing could put a snag in the plan, especially if her Papa takes her to her room, where her things are neatly packed away in her suitcases.

So relief is the first thing she experiences when she no longer feels sick, yet the relentless heat counters said relief, and she tries to move from the crowds in hopes of finding a cooler spot. Yet her body somehow doesn't seem under her control, a heavy sensation growing over her limbs. Around her the room seems unfocused, almost dim, and the music and voices are far away. Feeling strange and lightheaded, and trying to ignore both, she pushes forward and keeps walking, until she's finally overcome and everything turns dark.

"… _chel… Rachel…_" She hears her Papa saying, but she's not quite sure where he is.

And, when she tries to find her voice, she's unable to do so. She does, however, manage to blink open her eyes, the suddenly blinding light making her want to close them again, but she resists, needing to know what's going on. As Rachel begins to focus, she appears to be in her Papa's office, with her Papa and Mr St James, the doctor.

Making a small, whimpering noise, she grabs their attention, wanting to ask how she ended up here, and why her body feels so odd.

Mr St James observes her slowly, a thoughtful expression tiding over his wrinkled face. He takes her unresisting hand, fingers finding her pulse on her wrist, and begins to count each little thump. After a while, he says, "how are you feeling?"

"Sick," she mumbles pathetically, having thought that she'd avoided most of the nausea for the day. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches the way her Papa gazes down at her, though right now all she wants to do is sleep and get rid of the heavy feeling in her mind and body, so she ignores him.

"I'll just run a few more tests," Mr St James says quietly, peering up to her Papa from where he's kneeling before her, "if that's alright. You can return to the guests, Michael – she's fine now, if only a little shaken up."

Papa frowns deeply, "then what on Earth do you want to test her f – "

"It's merely precautions," he assures his friend, "she could be anaemic. That's a cause of fainting and feeling sick. It's always best to check, to prevent this from happening again."

She glances between the men, watching as her Papa nods in acceptance, gently patting her shoulder before he leaves the room.

Once Mr St James has received his kit, with everything he might possibly need, he spends a good few hours doing things she barely tries to understand, while she just sits patiently and tries to let this horrible feeling disappear.

But it's worrying when the man gives her this strange look, almost startled, before going to retrieve her Papa. As she sits in that room, by herself, she allows the calm atmosphere to lull over her, relaxing her everything as she thinks about the future, what it brings, and considers whether she'll enjoy her life in San Francisco. It's no New York, that's for sure, and a culture change might do more harm than good, yet she's determined to make the best of the situation. Besides, what choice does she have?

Rachel is ripped from her thoughts the minute the door bursts open and she's faced with her Papa, looking both shocked and angry with her, and she feels her heart plummet. This can't be good. "_You_," he points to her, causing the girl to wince at the way his speech twists so harshly, "what have you done, Rachel? How could you do this?" Rather than anger now, he looks at her with disgust in his eyes.

She knows what he's talking about, aware that trying to deny it is fruitless, yet for some reason – perhaps grasping on the last straws of hope – she plays dumb. "Papa? W-what's wrong?" The way her voice trembles can't be helped, showing just how scared she is. This isn't supposed to happen, not when she's so close to freedom. Rachel struggles to find her breath, her entire body rife with panic.

He shakes his head, mouth snarling nastily in her direction, "you are just like your brother – a _disappointment_, not worthy of this family." Reaching her in two quick strides, he pulls her from the chair with a painful grip, bringing her onto her wobbly feet, before he leans down so that they're face to face. "How could you do this to me? After everything I gave you?"

Rachel steps back, eyes hard, "you gave me _nothing_."

"What?" he balks, "what did you just say?" The fury in his own expression makes her want to be as far away from his as possible, but with him blocking the only exit, she's still trapped in this house.

She forces herself to appear strong, confident, when inside she's quaking. "You – you never gave me what I needed, just as you didn't Blaine. We're not children to you; we're just… _pawns_ in your game." For as long as she can remember, he's never been a Father figure to her or Blaine, rather an intimidating and controlling man in which they live under the rules of. She can barely remember the last time he genuinely showed any affection toward her, any love. Daring to look her Papa in the eye, she finds the words coming out strained, "and I'm not going to do that, Papa, not anymore."

He's silent, thoughtful, though a look glazes over his expression, making her feel uneasy.

"You were going to leave," he says lowly, everything clicking together in his mind, "that's why your bags are packed." He growls, "you were going to run away."

Unable to say anything, she just stares up at him with her teary eyes. The worst part is that he doesn't look hurt that she wants to leave, just angry. Always angry.

"And you were going to go with _that_ man," he spits out.

Her head snaps up, "w-what?" How does he know about Finn? That's – that's impossible. No one could have told. Miss Shelby wouldn't do that to her, and she has definitely not mentioned even his name since the incident at Blaine's birthday party.

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about!" he shouts in a snap of rage, and Rachel flinches from her Papa. "The man who got you pregnant, it must be him. Who else?" he snarls, then notices the shock that spreads across her face, "Andrew just told me."

"H-he said he was testing me for anaemia," she stutters out.

"A lie to find what he was truly looking for," he snaps back, "and looks like he found it." Her Papa's hard face bores into her eyes, waiting for her to say something, but she's barely able to breathe, let alone talk. Her chest feels heavier and tighter by the second, throat closing up, too. "Did you really expect me not to find out?" he continues, "I'm your Father – of _course_ I was going to find out that my daughter has been… _whoring_ herself out to some man she barely knows."

"I do too know him," she argues back, surprising herself with her sudden burst of inner fight, "I love him, Papa."

Upon seeing his eyes widen, she bows her head, biting her lower lip. Again, she feels lightheaded, though it's more from the adrenaline of the argument rather than her condition. "You love him… that – that… worthless piece of scum."

"He _isn't_ worthless," Rachel defends Finn, "he is more decent that you'll ever be, and he loves me too."

"You really think that? That he isn't just some… _pervert_ looking for a young, innocent girl to prey on. And now he's got what he wants, he won't just leave you? Leave you pregnant, for me to clean up the mess."

Rachel looks to her Papa, almost sadly, and says, "y-you clearly don't know what it's like to be in love."

"You are not in love!" he yells, "you have an infactuation with this man. I should have seen it coming – all those books you read, giving you the wrong idea. And he took advantage; you have been corrupted by this man and now he's – he's _defiled_ you. And we have a problem, Rachel." He grabs her arm, as if trying to be gentle, but the surfacing anger is making it hard to do so, "we have to get rid of that bastard child before it's too late, before anyone finds out."

A gasp escaping her lips, she shrugs off his hand and stares at her Papa with accusing eyes. Her hand moves down to cradle her stomach, head shaking. "No," she says, quietly but strongly.

"Excuse me?" His forehead creases, eyes hard, "when I tell you you're going to do something, Rachel, you will do it. You are _my_ daughter – you will obey m – "

"I won't kill my child to please you, to uphold our _reputation_ of all things," she frowns, "I'm not you. I'm not heartless." She continues to shake her head at him, "and you can't tell me what to do anymore." With that, she uses all the force she has left and barges past him, headed for the door. She doesn't quite know what she's going to do after that – go straight to Finn (who should be waiting outside) or got to her room to get her things? She's going to have to make a decision, and she's going to have to make one soon.

"Rachel Anderson, get back here this instant!" her Papa orders, the threat in his tone clear.

She turns, eyes narrowing at the man. "It's Rachel _Hudson_," she corrects, her hand reaching out to tug the door open.

She expects the party to still be on-going, seeing as she couldn't have been in her Papa's office for that long as Mr St James ran his tests, but the house is practically deserted. She doesn't know where everyone went, whether they'd been sent away, but she doesn't bother wasting another second considering it as she needs to get out to Finn, before it's too late.

"Rachel, don't you _dare_ take another step!"

Throwing a look over her shoulder, she finds him fumbling for something in his desk draw, pulling a small, black object from there. Her eyebrows knit together as to what it is, but she can't focus on it for long as she reaches the front door. She doesn't hesitate to swing it open, the door slamming against the inside of the wall and shaking a few pictures from the sheer force of the hit. Rachel barely hears that as she's searching around, body sighing in relief when she sees Finn, leaning against a dark car with his gaze intent on the door. The moment he sees her, he's in action.

She moves desperately toward him, knowing that her Papa is behind her, "Finn!" She doesn't make it out of the house as strong hands wrap around her from behind, pulling her back inside. With a loud screech, she feels her body dragged backwards, until she's roughly thrown to the floor. "Finn!" she calls out again.

"You are _not_ leaving," her Papa yells, "I'm not going to let y – "

He's interrupted by Finn appearing, some crazed look in his eye. He dives for her Papa, succeeding in knocking him over and raising his fist ready to punch the man. Rachel watches as he struggles beneath Finn, his smaller build definitely not an advantage this time, especially when compared to Finn's much stronger body. Still, something happens that makes Finn freeze on the spot, his eyes wide.

Rachel tries to move forward, to see herself, but her Papa's clear voice echoes around the room. "Get up," he orders, visibly sighing a breath of relief as Finn's huge torso is no longer towering his, and this also allows her a direct line of sight to the reason why.

"_Papa_…" she whispers in horror, a hand flying to her mouth when she sees the pistol held against Finn's chest.

"Shut up!" he shouts to her. She flinches, slowly rising to her feet as the men do also, though her Papa's eyes are intent on Finn, full of anger that's no doubt ripe to explode. Her eyes draw down the weapon once more, watching the way his hand trembles as he holds it. Is this part of that 'stock' he had spoken about? He kept some for himself, so that he could take control when he was otherwise powerless.

Finn's is frozen like a statue, breath shaky. She supposes that she'd be similar if she had a gun pointed at her. "Look, you don't have to do this. Yo – "

His face scrunches up, "don't you dare. Don't. You. Dare." He eyes Rachel for a moment, then moves his gaze back to Finn, "did you just think that you could do this my daughter and get away with it? You're not worthy of her, of this family. And now you've _ruined_ her. You've made her one of _your_ kind. A common bitc –"

"Don't say that about Rachel. She's special!"

"I wouldn't use that tone if I were you," her Papa says, moving the gun again.

"Papa," she manages out, her voice shaky.

In the brief moment that the man's distracted, Finn reaches out and snaps his hands around his arm with the pistol, moving out of the way as it's accidentally shot, a bullet shooting right into the wood panelling of the wall. Rachel screeches out in shock, placing a hand over her racing heart. It looks as though Finn's going to succeed until her Papa manages to knee him in the groin, causing him to double over in pain.

He regards the man, now kneeling below him, and takes a few feet back. He raises the gun, eyes widening. "You're going to pay for what you did to me."

Finn's eyes grow for a second, before squeezing close as his finger closes around the trigger.

And then a deafening bang follows.

He waits for the pain, but it never comes.

Then he hears a soft whimper, then a cry, and his eyes open. He feels _sick_. Rachel is lay on the floor before him, and she's clutching at her side, hands shaking. "R-Rachel," he barely whispers, crawling toward her, an intense feeling of sickness plaguing his body.

"Finn," she says back weakly, "Finn, it h-hurts."

"Oh God, _Rachel_."

He takes hold of her hands, holding back a sob when he feels the warm blood beneath his fingers, and then he pulls them back to see the red stained spot on her dress. "Fuck," he brings a hand to his mouth. So much blood.

Rachel tries to look to Finn, but it feels as though there's a searing pain in her side, burning throughout her body and leaving her unable to move, to hardly speak. She closes her eyes, letting the tears drop down. It all feels too much, a darkness beginning to overcome her vision, so much that she can barely see Finn's face anymore. She reaches out fingers brushing against his cheek. "F-Finn…" she says, eyes fluttering closed.

"Rach, stay with me," he urges, gripping her hands with much more will, "come on, stay awake."

"It hurts… s-so much…"

"Please, Rachel – I _can't_ lose you," he openly begs, tears in his own eyes.

It's getting harder to stay awake. The pain is too much, a deep throbbing in her side. "I l-love you." She attempts the smile, to show him how happy he'd made her. And that's when her world disappears before her. She barely hears another gun shot before there's nothing but darkness and silence.

* * *

The following day is probably the worst in his entire life. Between crying and feeling as though life has stopped altogether, he doesn't really get much done. He barely eats. He barely sleeps. He just sits there, completely devoid of any emotions other than worry and pure sadness. And, every time he closes his eyes, all he sees in Rachel lying on the floor, the blood stain growing and becoming darker in color. That image haunts him.

"I can't do this without you," he finds himself saying, "Rach, come back to me. Please. I miss you so much." He draws in a shaky breath, repeating, "I can't do this. I _need_ you."

All he can hear is the incessant beeping of the machine, something that follows him around even when he leaves the room. Now, directly beside it, it's strong and clear in his ear, momentarily distracting him from the problem at hand. Sitting forward in his seat, he reaches forward and takes hold of Rachel's pale, limp hand, choking back the tears. "Rachel," he brings the back of her hand to his mouth, gently kissing it, "_please_."

"F-Finn."

At first, he doesn't react, used to imagining her voice speaking to him over the past twenty four hours, as if his mind is just torturing itself.

It takes it to be said once more, along with a few twitches of her head, for him to finally look up, eyes disbelieving when he finds her staring back at him. "Rachel!" he exclaims, his breath hitching in his throat. She blinks, eyes tired and whole body looking worn as she tries to sit up, but a sharp gasp escapes her. He's instantly closer to her, peppering her face with kisses. "I was so scared, you – you…" The words can't seem to be found to show how relieved he is to see her okay.

She gently lifts the covers, wincing when she sees places a hand over where her stitches are. He takes the hand away, holding it tightly in hers, and just takes the time to look at her, to relish in the fact that she's awake and she's _okay_.

Finn notices her glancing around the room in confusion, her eyes moving from the bed, the hospital gown she's in, to the beeping machine beside her. "How did…" she starts, gaze finally lifting up to him, "I thought I was…" Her bottom lip wobbles dangerously as she gently touches her wound once more."

"You're safe," he assures her, the softest of smiles appearing on his lips, "and… and the baby is, too."

Barely able to keep it together now, she breaks into deep sobs, body shaking with each one. He travels to the bed, perching himself on the side – which is difficult with his long limbs – and attempting to pull her into a hug. She falls into his embrace easily enough, trying to avoid her stitches. "T-the baby's okay?" she asks again, as if needing further reassurance.

He nods, not wanting to let her out of his arms, "the doctors said that you were lucky. The bullet went to your side, missing any organs. And we got you to the hospital in time."

"W-we?"

"Mr Hummel," he offers, "he'd heard the first shot and arrived after you passed out. It was him who called the ambulance. I was – I was too panicked to do anything."

Her brows scrunch together in thought, "and Papa? What did he do?" She watches Finn's expression fall, the heavy onset of guilty causing his shoulders to sag, his eyes to avoid hers. An unsettling feeling bubbles away in her stomach. She remembers jumping in front of Finn before the shot was taken, the look of shock on her Papa's face as he realized it had hit her, but everything following that feels fuzzy, far away, and the only other person who was there was Finn. But she doesn't like the way he's behaving now. "…Finn?"

He drops his face into his hands, hiding the shame. "I'm so, _so_ sorry." This is repeated over and over, with varying levels of distress. Rachel, still uneasy, reaches out and tenderly pulls his hands away, unveiling his face once more.

"Finn," she says, looking him dead in the eye, "I can – I can take it. Just, please tell me."

Sighing again, he starts to speak. "I was so stupid and angry and I couldn't …- I couldn't stop myself. I thought that you were…" Finn doesn't have it in him to say the word, "and he did it. He _hurt_ you. I-I wanted to hurt him too… so I picked up the gun and I… I just s-shot." And this is where he returns to repeating his 'I'm sorry' mantra as the words sink in.

"He's…gone?"

Finn hesitates, then nods. At this, she takes in a long breath, eyes watering. While he never acted like a Father should, she still feels something for the loss of the man.

And Finn is still apologizing to her, blaming himself. She can't let him do that, take the weight of the blame – that only means disaster for the individual. Once she's shed her tears for her Papa, she strengthens the grip on his hands and pulls him closer, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Stop saying sorry, Finn. It's not going to change anything."

"But he was your Father and I – God, I _killed_ him."

"Shh, you didn't… you didn't want to. It just happened. I can't let you keep blaming yourself," she caresses his cheek gently, "I'm sad, of course I am, but watching you like this makes me even sadder. Please Finn, forgive yourself. Can you do that?"

Dropping his head, he finally nods. "Okay," he says quietly, "I'll do it."

Those simple words make relief run through her body, and she gently squeezes his hands, wincing once more as she irritates her stitches with movement. Finn insists that she lies down as he informs her in on everything else: how talking to the police went (Finn going free in favor of self-defence – as Burt Hummel had explained that's what he'd seen to the police, for which Finn is extremely grateful. Being locked away is not something that he wants to happen.); how the wait for her to wake up had been excruciatingly long; and how he'd called Blaine after it'd happened.

She gasps, "Blaine knows? What did he say?"

"He was so worried about you. I could hear him and Kurt arguing about coming back to New York, just to see you, but I told him that we'd be there soon, after you're deemed safe to leave," he explains, idly playing with her fingers as he speaks, "when I told him about your Father he was just quiet for real long. I don't know – it was weird."

But Rachel doesn't find it weird at all, imagining that he felt like she did. Sadness, but at the same time relief, knowing that she's safe. She's free, just like she always wanted to be.

* * *

It takes a couple of weeks before she's released from the hospital, and then there's another two weeks where Finn is reluctant to let her do anything other than sit in bed all day, insisting that she needs rest. It's frustrating, but understandable, and she only gets irritated at him a _little_. They stay in Finn's apartment for those two weeks, Rachel not fancying to go to her home and relive the experience of that night.

The house is technically in Blaine's name now, but she's guessing that he's not going to want it either, and they'll probably sell the building at some point, when they've discussed it together.

So when she and Finn finally set their sights for San Francisco, she couldn't be more happy, or relieved. It takes them five days in all, and Finn's still being a little overprotective of her, but it's worth the entire drive when she finds herself waiting outside Blaine and Kurt's apartment. The only thing stopping her from bursting inside and practically jumping on Blaine is her own stupid fears. "What if he's changed? What if he's different?" It's been months, and he's had this whole new life while she's been in New York. Things aren't going to be the same, are they?

Finn just kisses her gently and smiles, "go and find out for yourself."

Rachel gives him a look, before he's pushing her nearer the door by the small of her back, an encouraging expression on his face. With a deep breath, she knocks on the door and waits. Her limbs are jittery, stomach churning uneasily, but then the door opens and she finds herself face to face with Kurt.

His smile grows in an instant and, before she knows it, he's calling out her name and enveloping her in a tight hug. "I missed you so much," she mumbles against his shoulder.

"Rachel?!"

"Blaine?" she pulls back from Kurt in an instant, eyes landing on her brother. He looks as though he's half way through getting dressed, a few of his shirt buttons undone, tie completely forgone and hair a mass of curls atop his head, but she doesn't care. Not one bit. She pretty much throws herself at him, "Blaine!" and then commences to speak to him in such a quick paced speech that he just stares back in confusion.

Once she's calmed down, he takes his turn in talking at an alarming rate, mainly asking about her wellbeing, and then he's demanding to see her wound, to make sure it's healing properly. The second he looks down and sees the tiny bump protruding from her stomach, his thick eyebrows knit together. He stares up at her, "Rachel?"

She turns back to Finn, who is staring at the ground, avoiding all possible looks. "Finn didn't tell you?"

Blaine's eyes widen. "He got you… you're… you're going to have a…" And that's the precise moment that his eyes roll to the back of his head and he faints to the ground.

"Oh my, Blaine!" she covers her mouth with her hands, watching as Kurt and Finn help him onto the sofa. Well, she hadn't been expecting _that_ reaction, but at least he's not angry. When Blaine returns to the land of the living, they all sit at the small table that they have and discuss everything, for hours on end. By the time they finish, she's leaning her head on Finn's shoulder, her eyes threatening to close shut, but it's the arrival of Kurt and Blaine's roommate that startles her awake.

Santana is kind of crass and says what she thinks, and she seems to find it amusing that there's someone smaller than Blaine, but other than that she is nice enough. She's just… _different_ to what Rachel's used to, yet if there's any time to adapt, it's now, and Rachel knows for that. She's ready for the change.

She looks over to Finn and smiles, a 'thank you' never leaving her lips, but he knows what her smile means, and he smiles back, too.

THE END

* * *

**So that's it. Complete! **

**I am completely floored by the wonderful support of all the people who read/favourite/story alert/review this fic. It means so much to me and I really hope you've enjoyed reading this fic as much as I have writing it.**

**Also this last chapter is dedicated to Tara, for her undying support, and just because she's amazing :)**

**Please review :)**


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